The Princess and the Eternal
by Zoe-eoZ
Summary: Hundreds of years after an atomic war destroyed most of the world, a new war is waging between two people: the Golden and the Silveren. When young Golden Clarke accidentally links her mind to that of an enemy soldier, she is in for a wild ride. Because Bellamy is also an Eternal, the wielder of one of the vilest of weapons to ever exist... Bellarke AU
1. A strange bond

_A quick note: Originally finished on 5 February 2018, this story was edited and updated in November 2018 in preparation for a sequel. Thanks to everyone reading and to those who already left and will leave feedback. This story is here because of you and for you. :)_

 _..._

* * *

 ** _The Princess and the Eternal_**

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...

* * *

...

"Yeah, I guess I'm not meant for a mind-bond." Frustrated, Clarke shook her head and moved to get up off the narrow wooden chair she had been sitting in. But her best friend Wells didn't let her. Looking at her sternly, he pushed her straight back down.

"Try again," he half yelled over the rain rattling down on the roof above them.

She glared at him, annoyed. She didn't like his tone, or the way his lips curved and made her cheeks grow hot - not that the latter was his fault... Mostly, though, she was upset by this whole freaking procedure. That it was even necessary. Thanks to the stupid war, of course.

A mind-bond... She rolled her eyes at the thought.

But okay, there was no use getting riled up about the inevitable. She'd just give it one last shot. If it didn't work, then fine. It wasn't like she wanted a stupid bond anyways.

Worrying her lip, she tried to "clear her thoughts," as she had been instructed to do during Preparation classes. Staring out the small cabin's large window to her side, she took a shuddering breath to try and make herself relax a little.

This place, this little wooden shed was where the "hopefuls" were brought. Clarke didn't know and didn't care how many places like this existed, but she knew this wasn't the only one, and she wasn't the only one trying out for a bond. All of that didn't change that she wanted to be done with it already. She never wanted to see this too cold, too stale cabin again.

The cold and humidity crept into her bones despite the thick walls around her and not even the quietly crackling fire in the small oven somewhere behind her could make her feel a little more comfortable. She could barely even feel any of the warmth coming from the flames.

Sighing quietly, she watched the little pond that was visible right outside the window, its surface in turmoil under a downpour of fierce rain. Hard drops were piercing its surface with such force that she could see the water splashing up.

The world seemed to be drowning, and Clarke was holding her breath. She would have preferred getting drenched out there over sitting in the dry cabin, waiting for the impossible to happen. She wished she could feel the rain on her skin, in her hair. She just wanted to be anywhere but in here.

...

She sniffed, absently rubbing a hand under her cold nose before reluctantly averting her gaze yet again and concentrating back on what was happening - or what was _supposed_ to be happening - inside the cabin, while the oblivious rain continued pattering down on the roof above her. She tried hard to focus on the sound, to clear her mind. But it was so difficult.

This was too ridiculous. She really wasn't meant for this, the tryouts, the war. She was no soldier. She wasn't disciplined enough. Hadn't she barely just scraped by in nursing school? And even there she had had trouble to hand in her assignments on time, hadn't liked following the orders of the head nurse at the hospital.

And now her people were hoping that maybe she was one of the special ones that would become part of a mind-bond, would thus be able to become a weapon in the age long war against the awful Silveren?

No, she really didn't think so.

But society didn't care whether you thought you were not eligible or special. They didn't care whether you wanted to try out or not. You _had_ to. So here she was, finally actively trying her luck at establishing such a link between her mind and that of some random (lucky) person out there.

But nothing had properly prepared her for this, certainly not Preparation with its tedious lessons on how evil the Silveren were, how vile their weapons. She had learned how long the war had been lasting so far, yes, and how the mind-bonds were tactically used in it. How to become linked, though? Not one concrete explanation.

Screw this! She had absolutely no idea how to even _try_ to get her mind to latch onto someone else's. What was she supposed to be doing? Was there some secret she was unaware of? Wells hadn't been helpful at all with this, either.

Groaning to herself, she squeezed her eyes shut, begging the world to just let it be over already. Let her be done.

"I can't feel anything," she announced, peeking over at Wells, who shook his head, eyebrows raised high. He was sitting hunched before her, looking up, the first button of his shirt undone as if he was too hot, despite the cold. (And he probably was. His blood had always run a little hotter than anyone else's.)

"You gotta concentrate," he advised her, and she glared at him, annoyed.

"That's not helping me at all," she grumbled, annoyed, but he wasn't having any of it. She felt his light touch on her shoulder, felt his breath against her cheek as he got really close to her, and she shivered involuntarily. If only he knew that he was making it even harder for her that way. But of course she couldn't tell him. Couldn't tell him how he occupied her thoughts or made her legs grow weak when he was around. She forced herself to wipe the unbidden thoughts and feelings away that had started washing over her as soon as she'd felt his touch.

Why couldn't she just get over him already? He had Maya...

"Try harder," he was breathing into her ear, the air tickling her, and she tilted her head a little to evade him. "It can take a while."

Slowly but surely, frustration made room for anger. It was not working. She felt absolutely nothing! She didn't know what she was doing, or what she was even supposed to be doing. Would she just have to sit here forever? Trying and trying until a miracle happened? Backing away from him, she blurted, "What the hell am I supposed to concentrate on, huh?! Care to explain? I mean, you've done this before, and quite obviously _you_ succeeded! You and Maya are the picture perfect mind-bond poster couple!"

She threw the words at him with more venom than intended, her cheeks flushing with an uncomfortable heat at the realization. More quietly she added, "There's just... nothing there."

But Wells surprised her with a genuine smile. "I get it," he said, still kneeling in front of her, looking up, a warm hand on her too cold knee, and she wasn't sure whether she trembled because of his touch or the damn cold. "Believe me, I do." He wagged his eyebrows knowingly, sympathetically, and smiled. Shoving his sleeves up a bit, he suddenly turned serious again as he took her hands in his.

"I know this sucks, Clarke. If I could give you any pointers, believe me, I would. But it's just not how this works. Otherwise they would have told us in Preparation."

"I know," she muttered, rolling her eyes, because her frustration was still clouding everything else. "I just don't think I'm meant for this. Maybe I simply can't establish a link. People fail all the time, right? Maybe we should call it a day and give up..."

What she kept to herself was, that maybe it wasn't working because, deep down, she didn't want it to. Maybe the problem wasn't that she wasn't link-material, maybe it was that she didn't _want_ to be… And what if anybody found out?

"Give it one more try," Wella cajoled. He wasn't one tolet anyone off the hook too easily, and while she usually appreciated that about him, it annoyed her now. "One last chance. You'll see. I found my link pretty much out of nowhere, too. Suddenly we both just… felt it."

Clarke rolled her eyes. Sometimes Wells and Maya were just a little too saccharine sweet and perfect. They were like soulmates. And the link, that was just the cherry on top.

She stopped herself right there. Thinking about the two of them together was just not healthy. Given that Wells was her best friend, she really felt awkward about being so… unhappy and jealous of their relationship. What kind of a friend was she?

"You got this. Come on." He smiled at her obliviously. "I just _know_ you're meant for a link, too."

"Yeah..." She glared at him, annoyed at his enthusiasm for something she couldn't feel excited about herself. "That helps me so incredibly much."

But she did close her eyes again, listening to him chuckle. Then she wiggled down in her chair to get a little more comfortable. "Alright," she announced, "one last try…"

…

* * *

...

* * *

...

It was so cold Bellamy's body had started shaking violently to keep itself warm, to no avail. It was freezing, _he_ was freezing, and it took everything for him to stay on his horse as it was trying desperately to carry him away.

His brain felt fuzzy, his thoughts sluggish, but deep down, he comprehended how dire his situation was, how hopeless. The enemy would soon catch him, and in his current state he would hardly be able to put up much of a fight.

Clinging to the horse with one arm, the other slack and too heavy hanging down at his side, he put all his last strength into trying to remain in the saddle.

No, he was no threat to anyone like this, not even with the dangerous sword dangling heavily from his arm now, his Eternal Weapon.

He had only one chance. He needed to evade them somehow, or better yet, hide.

With a deep inhalation, he forced his heels into the horse's flanks, making the poor animal accelerate its gallop one last time.

One chance to get out of this…

They wouldn't let him live for long if they caught him.

...

* * *

…

* * *

...

The bonds were a strange business. Clarke was highly aware of that. At least Preparation had managed to convey _that_ much. (Which was still pathetically little.)

When you bonded your mind with someone else's, you were bonded to them forever. You shared your thoughts and feelings, you were always in each other's heads, you were never alone, you became one. Mindmates. Soulmates.

When she and her friends had talked about boys, and girls, and dating, and future husbands and wives, most of them had hoped to be part of such a bond. They had wished for it, daydreamed about it, she included.

How many times had she pictured herself and Wells as bond-partners back then? The memory made her grimace now. Because when he had _actually_ gotten what they had all begged for, when he had linked his mind with Maya's, Clarke had for the first time started to question those dreams. It had all gone downhill from there. Gone were the romantic notions of never having to be alone again and always having somebody who truly understood you, shared even your weirdest thoughts. They had been replaced by something way darker.

What if she could never hide any of her thoughts again? What if she'd get a link-partner and they'd inform the world about her forbidden feelings for one Wells Jaha? What would they think if they saw the pathetic fantasies she'd come up with, where his partner died a terrible death, or merely left him, leaving poor Wells all alone, with only Clarke there to pick up the pieces and slowly put him back together?

It sounded terrifying to her. Like she would never have any privacy again. She could be judged for merely _thinking_ stupid things, without even having any intention of acting on them.

But she had always known this day would come. It was something she had been told almost from the moment she was born. Because her parents had been bonded, too.

But didn't the links provide nothing but false hope, anyways? From the news Clarke knew that the Golden weren't doing too well in that stupid war. California, Nevada, New Mexico, Mexico, and Arizona had all long fallen to the enemy. Even Washington, Oregon and British Columbia were almost lost. The west was in enemy hands, and no link or bond or whatever you wanted to call it had prevented that from happening.

Yet here she was, following that stupid false hope, actually trying to open her own damn mind wide and let someone in. If it worked, she would never be completely alone in her head again. The thought was awe inspiring. Awful. Part of her wanted to run from it, far away. But that was not a choice. They would find her, and they didn't take kindly to people that were unwilling to try out and help the Golden empire.

 _They_ … Politicians. The military. Dark circles of influential women and men.

Unlike Wells, she was no soldier. She didn't know half of it, and she preferred to stay on the sidelines, as far away from the war as possible. If she ended up finding a link-partner, however, that passiveness would all be in the past. She shivered at the thought.

She didn't want to infiltrate the enemy with her potential partner and find out everything about their tactics, or whatever else they would ask of her, make her do...

She didn't even understand why they were fighting anymore. The war was so old, the soldiers so worn out. Did anybody really still know what had started it? And why they couldn't just sit down and end it already?

She huffed, jolting herself back to the present. The rain had not let up.

"Alright." She sighed. "It's not working." She looked over to Wells and started to hoist herself up and off the chair. And this time, he didn't stop her. At least not physically.

"Come on, Clarke. You didn't give it a real chance."

"I did!" She stared at him indignantly, anger bubbling up inside of her. "I don't even know anymore whether I want this at all. What if the person I - potentially - link up with was a total douche and we wouldn't get along at all, or-"

"Stop right there." Her friend looked alarmed at her outburst. If anybody else had heard her she could have gotten in trouble…

But she never heard the rest of his words because right then, she felt the most peculiar sensation. A reaching out, a searching, like her mind had grown tendrils of thoughts and emotions, floating out of her, and up. Or down. She couldn't tell, it was so… _weird_. She made a small gasping noise, clutching the armrest of the chair, slowly letting herself fall back into it. Everything seemed to happen of its own accord. A spiral dragging her... elsewhere. Was this it? Was _this_ what they all had been talking about?

Or was she just going crazy, losing her connection to sanity? She had gotten way too little sleep lately, so that was probably it. This all did rather feel like the spiraling down she sometimes experienced when her mind was falling asleep at a slower pace than the rest of her body. Surely, she would be jolted back out of it any second.

But that moment never came.

Her eyes pointed upward toward the roof, she stared blankly ahead, unseeing. Only hearing the rain. Until...

… she suddenly "touched" something else, felt her mind connect, a searing, sucking sensation that she wanted to stop.

She was struggling hard, fighting to make a connection to whatever her mind had encountered, _whomever_. She felt like a mere witness, unable to control any of it, she was just somehow _there_.

Then she was met with a rather startling and powerful resistance.

"Is this normal?" she asked, panting, growing slightly panicky. Small beads of sweat appeared on her forehead as she felt an uncomfortable heat creep into her body. "This is too difficult. I don't think I can do this. They're… they're fighting so hard!"

"Keep going," she heard Wells's reassuring voice. Sonorous, calm. He'd always had the power to soothe her, but for some reason it wasn't working so well right now. She was terrified. This did not seem right at all. "You're almost there," he was saying, and she tried hard to concentrate on his words. "Maya wasn't too pleased at first, either. It can be quite disturbing for the passive partner to have somebody enter their mind."

His explanation didn't calm her one bit, rather the opposite. She was starting to get positively scared.

Suddenly, there was a new feeling, an intense pain washing over her. But strangely, she knew that it wasn't hers. _It wasn't hers…_

She was hurting the other person. "Oh no," she breathed, and she tried to sever her mind from whoever it had connected with, although she quickly realized that she couldn't. She had no chance but to fight on until the link was properly established, ignoring the other's fight and revulsion.

"Can't I stop this somehow?" She looked to him for guidance, scared, barely seeing him. Everything was a blur. It was too hot all of a sudden, too. "I don't think this is the right person. Something's wrong. They're fighting me…"

She felt his hand on her leg again. She grabbed it, hard. He didn't seem to mind.

"Once your mind has started the process, it can't be reversed. You gotta do everything in your power to work on that connection now, Clarke. If you don't succeed…" He trailed off. But he didn't need to say more. She perfectly remembered that lecture from Preparation. There was no going back. If something went wrong and the link didn't get completed, both partners would die.

"I can't do this much longer! How long is this supposed to take?" It was bewildering how taxing it felt. She was physically exhausted, as if she was running the last few miles of a marathon.

"It should be done soon." He still sounded soothing, but she was too distracted to feel it.

"You said Maya didn't like it at first either, but… was she actively struggling?"

"Uh…"

Great, his non-reply was answer enough. "Oh gosh, this is so wrong," she hissed, her eyes wide and white. She felt her body start shaking, and she squeezed her eyes shut to focus on her strange task.

"Please, make it stop!" She suddenly yelled as the pain grew and grew, overwhelming her. She clutched Wells's hand so hard her knuckles turned white and he flinched in pain.

"Clarke. Clarke!"

In that moment, a sensation rolled over her like a wave, roaring in her ears louder than the ocean, louder than thunder, or the rain outside, and she slumped over in her chair, losing consciousness as she did.

…

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...

* * *

...

Bellamy was just about to give in to the pull of gravity, letting his body roll off the horse's back and into the harsh snow underneath, not caring anymore whether the enemy troops were still on his tracks or not, when a searing pain shot through his temple and deep into his brain. Letting go of the horse abruptly to clutch at his head, he ended up falling off way harder than planned.

Agony. Worse than the pain in his arm had ever been. This was… What _was_ this?! Death?

He couldn't think clearly. There was a jumble of foreign thoughts and emotions, too many. Too much for him to process.

It needed to stop.

Stop. _Stop_!

...

* * *

…

* * *

…

When Clarke came to, the first thing she saw was Wells's worried face. "Hey, are you all right?" His voice was a mere whisper, his hand on her arm just a soft touch. She closed her eyes, then opened them again.

Her blurry vision slowly improved and she noticed Maya was now sitting next to him. When had she gotten there? Clarke frowned. But their worried expressions made her smile a small smile. It was good to have them with her now that whatever had happened had happened.

"Yeah," she replied, rubbing her hands over her face wearily, slowly pulling herself into a sitting position from the gurney someone had put her on. "I'm… okay, I guess. What happened?"

"You passed out."

"Thanks, Captain Obvious. I got that much."

It was Maya's turn to speak, her voice as soft and quiet as usual. "Wells told me about your struggle… your partner put up quite the fight, huh? I mean, I thought _I_ had been resistant when Wells first 'attacked' my mind, but… this was something else." She chuckled a little awkwardly, then offered a hand to help Clarke stand. She looked at her curiously, contemplating. "So, who is your partner?"

Clarke gave her a puzzled frown, then scoffed incredulously. What kind of question was that? "Am I supposed to know that?"

Both her friends stared at her with frowns of their own. Maya gently touched Clarke's forehead as if to see whether she had a fever. The gesture was a little too intimate for her liking and she took a step back. Maya let her hand fall awkwardly to the side.

"You should know, yeah." She didn't look at her.

"Huh." Clarke was honestly confused. "I guess it didn't work after all then," she said, but Wells laughed at her like she was being dense.

"You'd be dead by now if you hadn't succeeded."

Maya made a scolding face at him, lightly slapping his arm, then she returned her attention to Clarke. A little gentler, she speculated, "You're probably just not used to the link yet."

But she wasn't so sure. To her it felt like something had gone wrong. This didn't feel like anything she had been told by her parents, or Wells and Maya. There was no feeling of completeness. She didn't feel different at all.

She honestly had no idea who her partner was because she was pretty certain she was still alone in her head.

"This all feels so wrong." She felt a lump in her throat and swallowed hard to try and get rid of it. She didn't want to cry, not in front of Maya, and Wells...

"Um..." Wells sighed. "Maybe they are just unconscious, like you were. I'm sure it'll all be fine once they're up," he chirped, always one for taking things lightly. "Welcome to the club! Let's get you set up. Tomorrow you'll start some basic training on how to use your bond, so you'll soon be able to help us win this war against the freaking Silverscum."

She stared at him. She was starting to feel terribly out of place. Hugging herself for comfort, she dared to ask just one question.

"What do you think I… _we_ will have to do now?"

Wells patted her shoulder lightly, pulling her against his side, a too familiar gesture. Too comfortable. She wished she could just give in to that hug and never let go. She needed him right now, more than ever. Yet she couldn't have him.

"One of you might have to infiltrate the Silveren Armies," he started explaining, unaware of her thoughts, and she shivered at the idea.

"What if my partner doesn't want to work with me, though?"

Both her friends laughed. "That won't happen," Maya assured her, "They might be a bit confused and reluctant at first. But usually that goes away pretty quickly and you two will learn to enjoy being linked. It can be quite the comforting feeling to know that someone is always there for you, just a thought away." The two smiled at her, then at each other. Clarke could see their love for each other so clearly that she felt a pang of jealousy.

Would she really have that? With someone that was still a total stranger to her?

She wanted that. She really did. But she doubted anyone could ever understand her crooked thoughts and feelings. And she simply didn't want to share _everything_.

"I hope you're right," she mumbled, then gasped suddenly and grabbed Wells's arm as something - _someone_ \- was stabbing her mind with a single thought.

 _Reverse this!_

"Clarke?"

 _What the hell did you do?_ _Reverse it! Leave me alone!_

The feeling was so strong, she felt like she was going to topple over.

"Clarke, come on. Are you okay? Is it your link? Clarke!" Wells looked at her, worry in his soft eyes. He exchanged a glance with Maya, who shrugged.

Her grip on his arm tightened, but she couldn't say anything. She was too focused on the stranger in her mind.

 _Reverse what you have done!_ It boomed in her head.

 _But… I can't_! she yelled, though it was only in her mind, and Wells and Maya stared at her worriedly while she was in another sphere.

That link, it didn't feel like it was fully formed at all. She could distinctly feel another one's presence, though it was merely touching hers at the edges. They didn't seem to be completely merged at all.

 _You have to_. The voice in her head - it was a male voice - suddenly sounded so desperate, so weary that it pained her.

 _It's not possible._ _I'm so sorry, but… didn't you pay attention in Preparation at all? Once a link is formed, it can't be reversed. We live and we die together._

 _What the hell is preparation?_

The response came as a shock. She gasped. _What?! Are you…_

This was not happening. Alarmed, she exchanged glances with her two friends, who both gave her a puzzled look. Then Clarke turned her attention back to her link partner and quietly asked, _Who are you?_

 _You_ _are a freaking Golden, aren't you?_ he concluded, sounding weary and disbelieving at the same time. Then, as if to himself, he added, _Fucking atrocious luck._

Her throat constricted. A horrible feeling of doom washed over her that made her knees weak and wobbly. _Are you_ not _a Golden?_

But her partner never got a chance to reply. Because right then she heard something. It was so close to her ear as if she was right there. She heard someone yell.

"Gotcha, you bastard. The Golden Army takes you prisoner! - That freaking Eternal. Finally... - Lieutenant, take his weapon away from him!"

The words had barely processed, when Clarke suddenly felt a searing pain, all the way up to her elbow, before she passed out again.


	2. First meeting

First Meeting _._..

When Bellamy saw them approach, out of a hazy fog he wasn't sure was even there or conjured up by his fuzzy brain and tired eyes, he thought for a moment they weren't real. That he was dead already. He grinned incredulously, still baffled by what was going on in his head. He was certain the cold had frozen his mind, had made him go crazy. None of this could be happening.

Right?

"Hand over your weapon, Blake," someone called out when the group had gotten so close that he had no doubt anymore that they were indeed real. And they knew his name...

There was no hiding _what_ he was, of course, but that they even had his name pointed to another traitor, another telepath somewhere in the Silveren ranks. He hated those with a passion. His throat closed, the coldness creeping deeper into his bones at the thought.

Now one of them had infiltrated his mind...

He shook his head, trying to clear it. Then he looked down at his weapon's arm, gleaming in the snowy white of the winter day, and he sighed wearily. He better prepared himself for yet more pain. They would make him take the weapon off, or, more likely, they would tear it off of him, and he knew the pain too well that would wash over him once the weapon was not connected to him anymore. He doubted they would allow him to use the bandage. That piece of fabric, almost as gleaming as his weapon, that could at least contain the pain a little bit with whatever strange powers it possessed. The enemy soldiers were most certainly going to confiscate it along with the weapon, trying to get behind the secret of both.

The secret of the Eternals.

And what would they do with _him_? Experiments. Torture.

He clenched his jaw, suddenly nauseous. And angry. Of course he knew the rules. Weapon bearers - Eternals - were far and few. No one was to ever capture one of them alive. Bellamy knew what was expected of him. He had to kill himself, couldn't allow the enemy to get him alive.

Farewell then, strange girl that had invaded his brain. It didn't matter anymore whether she was real or not, she would soon be gone. Or rather, _he_ would be...

He dragged his heavy left arm up, ready to strike against anyone who got too close to him, then pulled a small dagger out of his pocket with his free hand. Taking a deep breath of icy cold air, he felt it burn in his lungs, a sudden searing regret making him gasp, because he was not ready. He was just not ready, but there was no other way...

Swallowing the lump in his throat, he brought his right arm up to his chest, getting ready to plunge the blade into his heart, steeling himself as best as he could.

He felt a first shooting pain as the blade bit into him when suddenly, a white hot pain pierced through his head again. A feeling of alien panic and revulsion coursed through him, incapacitating in its intensity, and before he could tighten his grip on the dagger once more and try to finish his gruesome duty, strong hands had already grabbed his arm, stopping his movements, flinging both weapons away from him.

As the blazing pain in his left arm exploded, even more severe than the one in his head, he fell to his knees, unaware he was yelling, before finally, unconsciousness darkened the too bright world around him, and everything just stopped.

* * *

…

It was a few days later that they finally tracked Clarke's bond-partner down. They had had enough clues to go on: Prisoner of war. A name. It hadn't been too difficult to find him. It had almost been too easy...

What _was_ difficult for Clarke, however, was coming to terms with the fact that somehow, the worst had happened. She had linked herself to an enemy soldier. That wasn't even supposed to be possible. The thought made her nauseous, anxious, too. She was constantly on edge, always worried about the enemy in her head.

Silverens simply didn't bond. Right? They had their stupid awful Eternal weapons, but no telepathic powers for all she knew. So how could this have happened to her?

She had spent the last few days oscillating between despair and relief. Despair because she felt like her whole life as she knew it was truly over, in ways she hadn't ever imagined, not in her wildest nightmares. The military suddenly had an increased interest in her. They were scrutinizing her entire lineage, making sure there was no trace of Silveren blood in her.

But there wasn't. She was as "pure" as it got, not that that helped matters much. At least she wasn't considered an enemy spawn. Though she could see the looks people gave her behind her back - those few that were in the know, anyways. Her case had been deemed one of national security, her access to the public had been so drastically limited that she wasn't even allowed to talk to anyone outside of the military. She hadn't been allowed to go home, she hadn't been allowed to contact anyone.

She felt like a prisoner.

Her only relief in all of it had been that it had become quite apparent that her bond was widely different than anything ever before encountered. There were what she could only describe as barriers around her mind as well as his that not only helped her keep her thoughts private, but also kept the pain at bay that was emanating over from him. They had taken his weapon away after all. She knew that meant agony for him. But on her side, the pain was rather dull and bearable, sometimes almost nonexistent.

She also rarely heard him or felt his thoughts. He remained a complete stranger to her, and she was acutely aware of the fact that she could guard her own thoughts just as well. As if her mind knew that there was a small common area, a shared place she inhabited with her partner, where they could waltz together as if on a dance floor, or fight as if on an open battlefield. But a bigger, wider space was still just reserved for her, where she could retreat once their dance was over.

Privacy, then, was still possible. And she could breathe.

According to Wells and Maya, the only two she could really rely on for information in that regard, this was the opposite of how it was for them. For them, most everything was a shared mindspace. There was just the smallest place that each of them had to themselves.

"Without it, I'd go crazy," Maya had whispered to her once, chuckling. But Shannyn had had a hard time even understanding how that would work.

"So, if you know you're thinking something Wells wouldn't approve of, then you can just retreat to that space?"

Maya had laughed.

"Not really, no. It's almost as if the thoughts themselves know where they belong." She had smiled, her explanation leaving Clarke only more bewildered. She had given up asking for details, however, because she knew she wouldn't have understood it anyways.

But now… now she was beginning to see.

* * *

…

They had treated him surprisingly well so far, all things considered. Bellamy was beginning to wonder why. Could it have to do with that voice in his head? Could she be what kept them from acting out their tormentor tendencies? Because he could sense it in them. Barely hidden behind their hatred was the urge to poke and stab, to dissect him and find out the secret he carried. But they weren't allowed to. He'd heard their commanding officer clearly.

"The POW is not to be touched under any circumstances."

The POW… He snorted to himself, then sighed. The pain was getting to him, there was no denying that. His captors definitely knew that even despite their orders to leave him alone, he was already in enough of a bad state that his "stay" here was like torture. He tried getting as comfortable as possible on the hard bedstead they had provided him with, using his right arm to keep his left close to his body.

At least he was a little warmer again, so there was that.

The sergeant, a testy kid named Murphy, who had brought him food in the morning had announced that he was going to meet her: the owner of the voice in his head. He was pretty sure the man hadn't technically been supposed or allowed to tell him that, but he had apparently thought it was another good way to taunt Bellamy.

"They'll bring your mind-piece over, freak," he had spat, and Bellamy had been rather bewildered for a moment before he had made the connection. "She'll get everything we need to know out of you. She'll dig in there," he had poked Bellamy's temple hard, clearly disregarding his orders, "And she'll take you apart till your fucking brain is nothing but mush. Freaking Silverscum!"

Bellamy had brightly looked at him, allowing a small smirk to appear on his face as he had gotten as close to the other man as his shackles would allow. "Pretty sure you just disobeyed at least one major order you've been given, Sergeant. Would you like to inform your superior about that yourself, or shall I? You know, it'd be my pleasure…"

Murphy had glared at him, then left without another word, working hard to keep his cool and not lash out, while Bellamy had started chuckling behind him.

But once the soldier was gone, Bellamy had been alone with his thoughts again, with his pain, and he had started to think about her.

What would she be like? What would she look like? And most importantly, what damage could she really do to him?

He was curious. He was intrigued. And secretly, he was worried. He had never heard of any Silveren mind-melding, least of all with a Golden. She was a freak, and therefore, so was he.

There was still a way out… He would have to try and do it before she could pierce his brain and get information out of him that no Golden was allowed to ever see.

But first, he needed to see the face to that disembodied voice.

* * *

…

When an officer of the army had shown up to pick Clarke up at the cabin, taking her on a long ride so that she could finally meet her partner, she had almost balked. She didn't want to meet him. She didn't want to be associated with an enemy. She wanted to ignore it all, thank you very much.

But now it was too late for that. Of course she hadn't balked. Of course she had come. She had gone on the trying daylong ride, leaving the rain behind only to encounter frost and snow, and she had hated her life even more as she had sat perched on the too big horse, shivering under a heavy blanket and huddled in her only coat.

At least Wells had been appointed her bond-guide and was therefore with her through all of it. He would teach her how to work with the link, he would be there when she would have to face Bellamy Blake.

"Clarke." He gave her a worried look, and she tried to smile. They had finally reached their destination, and she watched as he dismounted his horse, suddenly feeling paralyzed. "Relax. They're not gonna leave you alone with him, okay? It'll work itself out somehow. I know it will."

She gave him a doubtful look, then started moving reluctantly. "Do you actually believe that, Wells? Because I sure as hell don't."

"Whoa whoa. What happened to the ever positive Clarke I know? The one that always sees good in everything, and everyone? Come on, it can't be half as bad as you're envisioning right now." He grinned a winning grin at her, pulling her against his side as they were walking down a long bare aisle in some nondescript army building.

She rolled her eyes up at him, but he did get a small smile out of her.

To Wells, this was all an exciting adventure, she could tell it from the way he looked at her and from his confident gait. Nothing out of the ordinary in his world as they were following a fellow soldier down a long, icy hallway.

But for her, everything had changed. She was suddenly bonded to a soldier of the enemy army. Nothing was safe or certain anymore.

She was jolted back out of her thoughts when Wells offhandedly remarked, "Might as well make the best of it. Who knows, you might get some military secrets out of this guy."

The officer who was accompanying them had stopped in front of a door, waiting for them to catch up. "I'm sorry, Major. But I have strict orders to only let Ms. Griffin in there."

Clarke could feel Wells's annoyance. His urge to protect her had always been strong. But she placed a reassuring hand on his arm, and worked hard to get a decent smile on her face. "I'll be fine," she let him know, trying to convince him as much as herself.

"If he tries anything - anything at all…"

"I'll holler." She gave him an appreciative pat on the arm, acutely aware of the bare skin peeking out from under his rolled up sleeve, the cold as usual not affecting him. She wanted to keep her hand there, feel his warmth. She wanted to hide in his arms, and she bit the inside of her lip to keep herself in check. Stupid feelings.

The officer gave her a sign. "I'll be in the corner right over there, so you won't be completely alone anyways." He nodded curtly, then added, "If he tries anything, he's toast."

Clarke didn't know what to say, so she merely nodded in return. For some reason, the soldier's words had sounded like a threat, not just to the Silveren POW, but also to herself. She took a deep breath as if she was going underwater rather than just into another room. When she emerged, she saw the man sitting almost in the middle of the room, cuffed hands resting on his lap, his bare feet chained to the ground beneath him. His head was hanging down, as if his neck had refused to carry it, but other than that, he sat pretty upright.

She shivered. It was ice cold in the room, even colder than the hallways.

"Hello," she made herself say, anxiously waiting for a reaction. She tilted her head a little, trying to get a glimpse of his face, but to no avail. She felt a tingly sense of anticipation creep up her spine, a feeling somewhere between being too hot and way too cold. She felt goosebumps prickle up on her thighs and calves.

The enemy soldier - her link partner - still didn't show a reaction. Helplessly, she looked over to the officer and shrugged, which the man seemed to take as a request, because suddenly, she saw him walk over and slap the side of the chained man's head, hard. She gasped, shocked, and her hand flew to her mouth. She looked over her shoulder for Wells, but of course there was a door between them now.

She was in this alone...

She watched as the force of the slap made the man's whole body jerk before he finally looked up. His unkempt hair, almost black it was so dark, hung into his eyes as he raised his head abruptly, and his dark eyes fell on her. They were strangely gleaming. Deep, and shuttered.

She swallowed, taking an involuntary step back, unsure of what to do or say. They had briefed her, of course, but she didn't seem to be able to recall any of the advice she had gotten. Make contact. Engage. Or was it, don't engage?

"I'm Clarke, " she introduced herself, as if this was just a friendly meeting. Her voice sounded foreign to her own ears. Darker, raspier. She forced herself to try again. "Clarke Griffin." Internally, she cringed at her now too chipper tone, and the fact that she caught herself almost stretching out a hand to shake his. She grimaced. She was just so nervous. "I'm your… link-partner. I know this must come as a shock to you, it definitely was a shock to me..."

She was mortified to find herself barely able to suppress an embarrassed giggle. She rolled her eyes, then bit her lip to stop herself. She needed to pull herself together.

"They told me your name is Blake?" She tried to smile, exhaling very slowly in an attempt to keep herself from blurting out the next string of words.

"My friends call me Bell," the stranger allowed, his eyes suddenly trained on her, staring at her unwaveringly. His dark voice sent an involuntary shiver through her body, She wasn't quite sure what to make of his words. Surely he didn't intend her to call him Bell... or did he?

And did she spot a flicker of mirth in his face?

* * *

...

The woman was gorgeous. Bellamy almost didn't believe his eyes. With her blue eyes, the warm tone of her skin, her blonde hair cascading down the sides of her face, she looked so different than any woman he had ever been close with. Swallowing, he forced himself to concentrate.

"So you are the woman that mind-raped me?" he asked drily, but had to smirk at her appalled expression. "Don't like my choice of words, princess, do you?" He smirked at her, then forced himself to harden his features. He couldn't allow anyone to see inside of him. Granted, it would be hard to keep that up now that this Golden was constantly in his head.

"I…" Her voice, so warm and sonorous, wavered. Suddenly she looked so vulnerable that he felt a strange protectiveness toward her. He bit down hard, clenching his teeth until the muscles in his jaw began to hurt. There was no reason and no use for that protectiveness. That girl was the enemy; he was their prisoner.

And yet...

"Maybe the two of us can work together so that one day we won't have to be enemies anymore." Her quiet suggestion moved him. As if she knew that, deep down, he hated the war. It was not his. It never had been. Yet he still had to fight in it as one of their armies' greatest "weapons."

Subconsciously he touched his bare left arm. Without the weapon and without the special bandage keeping the pain in check, the sensation was slowly wearing him down. Nothing he could do about that.

The whole situation still sounded like a horror story to him, or a creepy fairytale. That sweet and innocent looking girl had penetrated his mind and part of her had somehow… stayed. How had she even done that?

As soon as he had felt her invade his head, he had known his life was about to take a turn. In fact, her attack on him had startled him so much, had taken up all his concentration, so that it had been easy for the Golden soldiers to capture him, something that he would have never allowed to happen otherwise. Never.

The Golden troops had been after him for a while by then, as was always a risk when you were an Eternal. All the enemy's rage and anger and focus fell on them, because they stuck out with their blazing weapons and gleaming arms. And because they brought on the most and deadliest damage.

Now they had finally caught one. Him. Bellamy was willing to bet that they had patted themselves on their backs and congratulated each other. They had probably already scheduled his execution, only to learn about that freak connection one of their own had established with him and that had surely made their superiors tell them to hold off on killing him.

"I guess execution is off the table," he had chuckled at the officer that was guarding him, and the man had shot him a hateful glare.

"You'll wish we'd executed you."

Bellamy had rolled his eyes. He knew all about threats like that. He knew the consequences too. So far, his will to live had always, always succeeded.

But here she was, the woman in his head, the one he had fought every second of every minute of every hour of every friggin' day ever since she had entered where no one before her had been. His mind, if nothing else, had always been his, and his alone. Until she had come along. While he kept on fighting to keep her out of his head, he could feel her more and more. Could feel her voice. A strangely soothing, reverberating voice. A beautiful voice, he had to give her that.

Now that he saw her in front of him he thought that it fit quite well with the rest of her. At least the one enemy to bring him down was a gorgeous woman. He wouldn't want to have it any other way.

Well, he would have preferred to not have gotten caught in the first place, but hey.

"I'm talking to you!" The sudden exclamation jolted him back out of his thoughts and into his current situation. She looked angry.

He smirked. "Sorry, princess. Did you say something?"

She huffed, looking to the officer as if for help.

"Oh, him?" Bellamy gave a shake of his head toward the man in the corner. "He won't help you. Not much use that guy, if you ask me."

She glared. "Neither are you."

"Touché." He smiled at her.

He expected her to say something else, to repeat what she had said to him. But she remained awfully quiet, staring at him with an unreadable expression. He was starting to feel uncomfortable. He wasn't used to being looked at so directly, so intensely, so … incessantly.

Well, nice chat, Clarke Griffin," he broke the silence, hoping for the awkward feeling to go away. "Now, would you please vacate my mind again…"

She gave him an unreadable look, and he felt that feeling deepen.


	3. Silverscum

...

"That stupid Silverscum! Ugh." Clarke was so angry she didn't know what to do with all her negative energy. She already hated that man, more than she ever thought she could hate anyone.

How aloof he was, how unwilling to give this a chance, give _them_ a chance. He had made no attempt at trying to figure it out together. It was all on her now. And that word he had used: "mind-raped."

She took a deep breath, stomping up and down in the little cabin she had been allotted, Wells watching her as she paced.

"I don't think I have ever heard you use that word," he remarked, grinning, and she stopped in her tracks and glared at him with misdirected anger.

"What?!"

"Silverscum?" He chuckled, not at all offended by her grim mood. He knew her too well, knew not to take it personally. "I thought you were above curses that involved the other person's background. Wasn't it you who explained that whole business to me? How before the Last War, people had used religion and race and what not as markers for inferiority or superiority, and how it had been our downfall? Didn't _you_ tell me that getting rid of those markers had done nothing for any of us since we had just replaced them with arbitrary others?"

She looked to him grumpily. She didn't like to be lectured on her own points, not even by him. But yes, she remembered.

...

They had sat in Preparation - like so often - and had gotten their history lesson on the Last War, which, ironically, had not even _been_ the last one, and Shannyn had been strangely agitated hearing about it all.

Race. Religion. Abby, her mom, had once told her about that, too. How she should never take anything for granted, how she needed to keep her eyes and mind open to not fall for the mistakes of their ancestors like everyone else had done.

"They call it Gold and Silver now, Clarke, as if brown and black and white and red and yellow don't matter anymore, but they're fooling themselves. Nothing has changed. Some will always be 'more equal than others'. Now there's the mind-bonds and the Eternal Weapons, and after that, it'll be race once more, or something else entirely. Just watch, and please be careful. No war will ever be the last one, but we can at least do our part to protect our people…"

Clarke had talked about it with her friends. But they had merely given her strange looks and shaken their heads before changing the subject to safer matters.

...

Wells was right. His words got to her more than she let on. She had never used that word before, Silverscum. She shouldn't have done it now, no matter the circumstances. Despite everything, the Silveren were still people, not much different than them.

She sighed, letting herself fall onto the bed, stretching her tired arms and legs. Her whole body was sore from the long ride, and she was so ready to just close her eyes and sleep. Tomorrow was another day, her problems weren't going to run away from her anyways, so she might as well get some rest.

She looked over to where Wells was still sitting at a little table, a few papers in front of him, though she could tell that he, too, was tired. He had that slightly vacant stare he always got whenever he was conversing with Maya over their link, and Clarke waited until he was back from wherever he went for that before she asked him to let her get some sleep.

"We should really discuss a strategy for you first. Something to suggest to the General before the briefing tomorrow." He looked at her expectantly, but she shook her head.

"I'm so tired, Wells. I can't focus on anything right now. Can't this wait till after I've gotten some sleep? Please?"

He raised his eyebrows. "You always put everyone else's well being before your own, and now? What happened to selfless Clarke?"

She shot him an annoyed glance. "She decided to be a little selfish for once, now that everyone wants a piece of her and doesn't even treat her like a human being anymore," she quipped, making him smile at her sadly.

With a sigh, he got up, walked over to her and placed a light kiss on her brow. "Alright, alright. - I'll come back in the morning then. Before the meeting starts. Get some shut-eye, okay?"

She pressed her lips together, trying to smile for him. When he started walking toward the door, she rolled onto her side, facing the bare wall, and waited till she heard the light click of the door as it fell shut again behind her best friend.

She was alone.

She swallowed, trying hard to force unbidden tears back. What was she supposed to do? She hated this. All of it. And especially him, Bellamy freaking Blake. But what was worse, she hated herself too. For still longing for Wells. Why couldn't she make herself stop? Why…

 _Who is he?_

She almost choked on a gasp when she heard (felt?) Bellamy's voice in her mind, and she quickly scrambled into a sitting position. As if he could see her in her bed; which of course he couldn't.

 _None of your business_ , she huffed, biting her lip when she realized she had engaged him when she should have probably ignored him, or pushed him out of her thoughts. What had she divulged to him already?

 _I'm only here because of you. Remember?_

She snorted, feeling herself grow angry again. _I told you that I didn't do anything!_

 _How do you explain this, then?_ We _don't do this_ …

 _You don't '_ do _' this?! Well, excuse me! From what I hear what_ you _do is way worse. Those weapons of yours... I don't need to tell you this. You should know best. I can feel your pain, s_ he retorted, anger getting the better of her once more. She liked the feeling of triumph she felt at throwing the words at him. She was fully prepared for him to lash out with more accusations or maybe even threats. But she was met with complete silence.

She probed his mind, right there at the edge where she could feel his presence linger, but there was nothing. _Nothing else to say, huh?_ she challenged. _You know nothing about real pain, Bellamy. Not until you've seen your family get torn open by one of those weapons you wield. Not until you've seen their pain before they die…_ She felt an unbidden sob build up inside of her, and she knew she wouldn't be able to contain it.

 _I'm sorry, princess_.

 _Don't friggin 'princess' me! s_ he yelled, exasperated at his stupid term of endearment, but also startled at his words, and she was met with a feeling of amusement in reply that made her even angrier.

With all her concentration on her barriers, she forced herself to close her mind off, and was relieved when she finally felt alone in her head again. No voices, no foreign feelings. But loneliness. And too much time to think about her miserable life and her miserable love.

It was not as great of a trade as she had thought. A part of her almost wished he was back in her head…

* * *

…

 _How is she holding up_?

Wells closed his eyes, focusing inward when he heard Maya's voice.

 _Eh. You know Clarke. She's tough._

He was laying in bed, arms crossed under his head, just staring at the ceiling. He was worn out, and honestly? He didn't want to discuss their friend right now. Instead, he tried to direct their conversation into different territory.

 _What are you wearing?_

 _What?_

He knew she was giggling incredulously. He wished he could wiggle his eyebrows at her suggestively, but over time, they had learned to listen for other cues; and to be more blunt when needed.

 _Come on, Maya. You know what I mean. You wearing those nice tight pants? - Please,_ he begged and smiled to himself when she finally said she was. He could just picture her. Wearing her comfy flannel pajamas, but telling him about the sexy lingerie she was pretending to wear. Telling him how she touched herself when he knew full well that she was probably too tired to even move. But he would take it. If he didn't have to talk or think about Clarke and her stupid partner, either, it was a win in his book.

 _Do you like her, Wells? Clarke..._

Maya's question pulled him right out of the moment.

 _She's my best friend, of course I do… - Back to those panties of yours, can you-_

 _I'm serious. I'm not judging you, I'm just_ … She trailed off and he sighed. The flirty atmosphere was gone, he might as well just sit up and talk it out with her. He could sense jealousy. He also knew she could sense his growing annoyance. Sometimes he really cursed his connection with her. It had been so much easier before they had become bonded.

 _Sh… don't say that. Don't even think it. This leads nowhere, you know that._

Of course Maya had picked up on his thoughts as well. He ran a hand through his hair in frustration. There was no hiding them.

 _Ya. Alright. Fine. I'm sorry. Listen,_ he paused, trying to focus on the one place he still had to himself. _I do like her. Of course I do. We've been through a lot together, you know that._ He tried to show her some pictures from his memories and she got the message. A flickering weapon, screaming people. He had been there when that Bearer had destroyed Clarke's childhood. He had been there for her ever since.

 _I remember._

This was going to be hard. Maybe impossible. He had to focus. Focus. _But_ _I don't love her. Not in that way, anyways. She's my best friend, though. So, yeah…_

 _You're right. I'm sorry._ Maya seemed genuinely remorseful for having put him on then spot like that. _I don't know where this suddenly came from. Honestly, I just think I'm a little, I don't know, jealous? That you two get to spend so much time together. That you get to be by her side through this while I_ …

He smiled. _But_ you _are who's always on my mind, gorgeous!_ he said, and he was relieved when he heard her light laugh. _I love you, Maya._

 _And I love you, Wells_.

* * *

…

They had come at night. It was the reason why she was afraid of the dark now. Even after all these years. Not because of monsters under her bed, nor because of tales of deformed scary things lurking in the forests out there. No. The reason she was forever scared to go out after sunset was the one fateful night when monstrous humans had come for her family.

She could see it all again, feel it. She knew she was dreaming. That happened sometimes, that she was aware; but the lucidity didn't make it any more bearable.

How they came at their little house, her mom screaming, her dad being dragged out. And then…

A blazing light brightened the scene, a man with his arm on fire - or so it seemed - lashed out at her dad. The sound her father made when he fell… She bit hard into her hand to stifle her own cries, hard enough to draw blood.

She hid under the porch, from where she saw and heard it all up close.

It had been her hiding spot when she was a little kid. She and Wells had always played under there.

Her father's blood dripped through the cracks. She saw the side of his face lying against the cool wood. She heard the men's voices.

She saw _it_ : the weapon. Dangling off of their leader's arm like it was part of it. So bright she couldn't look directly at it.

Suddenly there was such pain.

 _Clarke. Wake up!_

She woke up with a gasp. She scrambled up in her bed, completely disoriented for a moment. She looked around wildly, half expecting Wells or someone else in her room. But nobody was there. She was completely alone.

 _Bad dream._

Not a question. A statement. It was him. Bellamy... He knew. He had seen it. He had seen her dream.

Clarke stood up, running a shaky hand over her face, pulling her long woolen sweater around her more, clutching it with icy hands. It was cold in the cabin, and she felt oddly violated. He had seen her dream.

 _I'm sorry._

She took a deep breath, wiping away the tears that were running down her cheeks. She didn't even remember when she had begun to cry.

 _Are you okay?_

He was still there. She scoffed. Why was he still in her mind space?

 _Get out of my head,_ she ordered him, anger tinging her words.

 _I'm not doing anything._

 _You saw it!_ It came out as an accusation. She tried to shove him away on a mental plane, which made him recoil. She could feel his pain intensifying, like she had broken a hole into a barrier instead of pushing him further away. She was confused by this. She tried again.

 _Stop_.

 _Get out!_ She was yelling now, frightened and unsure, and she lashed out one last time, icy hot pain exploding around her, making her slump down on her knees and hold her head, her arm, her body.

 _Stop_!

Only then did she finally realize that it hadn't been him in her head after all. She had somehow invaded his. With a jolt, she pulled away, leaving the pain behind and his voice, returning to the dark cool cabin and her own thoughts.

What the hell just happened?

She was shaking. Her breaths came in quick succession, as if she had just overexerted herself. She couldn't stand up for another few minutes. She had to wait for a while, until her breathing was calm again, and the shaking slowly subsiding.

When she finally managed to walk over to the small kitchen, she made herself a tea, then sat down in one of the two crappy chairs they had provided her with and rested her head on her arms for a while.

It was not until at least an hour later that she finally dared to carefully reach out again, into that small shared space of their minds.

 _Are you there? Are you okay?_

No reply. Just emptiness. She sighed, ready to leave it be. Why would she want to talk to him anyways? She was mortified that he had seen what he had seen: Clarke at her most vulnerable moment. He had no right. Someone just like him had destroyed her family, a Weapon Bearer had killed her dad, an Eternal, and now she had not one but two of them in her head: one a memory, one very very real.

How was she supposed to live with that?

* * *

…

He had lain awake, the pain making it impossible for him to get comfortable, to sleep for longer than just increments here and there. He had tried to concentrate on something else to make it a little more bearable, when suddenly, strange images had appeared in his mind. Things he had never witnessed, feelings he had never known. Not his, then. Hers.

She was cowering under wooden planks, a porch. He followed her frightened gaze and saw it all as if with her eyes. Terrible images. A nightmare? No... Not just a dream. Somehow, he knew. He called her name, to wake her. Once, twice. She didn't seem to hear him. She was captured by the horrors in her mind.

Until finally, he did get through to her.

...

She had made him pay dearly. He closed his eyes, his breathing still erratic, still too shallow. He couldn't get it under control.

He had tried hard to keep his pain contained, locked away somewhere deep inside of him. When he had realized she was aware of it somewhere at the edge of their shared mind space, he had briefly wondered whether he could somehow use it as a weapon against her, before he had closed it off even more, shielding her from it as best as he could. Why? Because nobody deserved to feel pain like that. He had injured so many, he had inflicted Eternal Wounds, wounds that didn't heal and hurt almost as badly as his. It was his job.

And he had always known that he didn't want to do any of it.

But now she had barged in, Clarke of the Golden. She had torn down his barriers, so strong, so powerful, and she had unleashed that pain, allowing it to freely course through his entire body, mind numbing, blinding, and he didn't know how to put those barriers back up. He couldn't function anymore. He couldn't…

* * *

…

"Sir. We have a bit of a problem."

General Gustus closed his eyes, tiredly rubbing over them with one hand. He shook his head. He was weary. War did that to you. Having to write yet another letter to another family who had lost another daughter or son didn't help matters.

"What is it, Sergeant Murphy?" he asked the young soldier in front of him, finally looking up at the other man.

"The prisoner in 1103, Sir."

The Eternal. Gustus groaned audibly. He had known from the start that nothing good would come of leaving him alive for much longer than it took for them to dissect him.

"He's scheduled for another meeting with the girl?"

"Is that a question, Sergeant?"

His annoyance must have been rather obvious, for the soldier hurried to apologize.

"I'm sorry, Sir. Of course not. The meeting… I'm," he was stuttering, "not sure what to do. The prisoner seems to be in… distress…"

The General rolled his eyes. It was like pulling teeth. That kid still needed to learn so much.

"Obviously, Sergeant. You've never met an Eternal before, have you?"

The man pressed his lips together. "No Sir."

"They're always in 'distress.'" He slowly pushed his chair away and got up, crumpling the letter he had tried to write in his hands. He would have to try again. With a little more… feeling.

"Yes, Sir. So I've been told. But this… seems to be different. He's not exactly responsive."

The General looked up, suddenly more interested. "Huh," he made. "Has anyone touched him?"

"Not that I know of, Sir."

The Sergeant had turned the slighted shade of pink. Gustus was sure the kid himself had probably touched the prisoner. But he didn't really mind. A little bit of roughness here and there was not the problem.

"Well then… I'll consider this a good thing. Bring the girl over. I want to be there. If he's truly in such a bad state, it should be easy for her to break him down and give us all the information he could possibly have."

He smiled to himself as Sergeant Murphy gave him a resounding "Yessir" and saluted before making his way to the door.

This day might turn out to bring some good news after all.

* * *

…

Clarke yawned. She felt groggy from her early start. She was following the same soldier they had been following before, Wells by her side once again.

"Hanging in there?" he had asked her upon picking her up, and she had given him an unconvincing lopsided half-grin.

"I'm trying."

Normally, she would have told him all about last night's strange happenings. Even after he and Maya had bonded, she had still told him - them - pretty much everything that happened to her. For some reason, and she couldn't quite put her finger on what that was, she suddenly didn't feel like she could - or should - do that anymore.

Maya wasn't here. She was back home, working at the military headquarters' hospital section.

"Ma'am, we are here." It took Clarke a second to realize the soldier meant her, and she stifled a laugh.

"I don't think I've ever been 'Ma'am-ed' this much before. Makes me feel like I'm actually a respectable woman," she whispered to her friend, making him grin.

"Aren't you, Ms. Griffin? You've always seemed impeccably respectable to me."

"That's not saying much."

He raised his arms, chuckling. "Alright, alright." He nodded over to the other soldier by the half open door. "Let's go in."

She inhaled deeply, letting the air out slowly as she walked through the door, bracing herself. She was going to meet General Gustus first, and a few of his staff, before she would be sent back into the room with _him_.

"Ms. Griffin?" A middle aged man with black hair and a dark tattoo on his face held out a hand that she reluctantly took. He squeezed it a little too hard for her liking, but she put on a brave blank face and nodded.

"General Gustus," he introduced himself, then pointed out the other few people in the room, naming them all. "And I believe you've met Sergeant Murphy before."

She nodded again, trying to smile at the soldier, though she was wary of him ever since he had slapped her link-partner.

"Shall we?"

She gave a nod and followed the General over to a half circle of chairs and sat down next to Wells, waiting.

"As I'm sure you've learned by now, your… quite peculiar bond is of utmost interest to us. A game changer."

Her tongue felt heavy when she got out a small and quiet "Yes," and she waited for the man to continue. Wells's presence by her side somehow didn't feel as reassuring as it usually did. She wiggled uncomfortably in her chair, only stopping once she noticed what she was doing.

The General tapped a paper lying in front of him, indicating that there was also a copy on her table. She picked it up gingerly, her eyes briefly flying over a few bullet points before the man finally went on.

"This is a list of questions we have. Things we need to know and that we've been trying to find the answers to for a very long time. I don't need to remind you how vile the Silveren technology is that enables them to create the Eternal Weapons." He paused for a moment, locking gazes with her. She stared at him so hard, she couldn't see him anymore. "When you go in there, I want you to poke his brain for those answers. Dig in there. Get them out. With that information, I believe we have a real chance of finally ending that war, Clarke. _You_ will make that possible."

"But... I'm not sure I can…" She trailed off, suddenly feeling sick. It was too much pressure. "What if I fail?"

The General broke into a smile. "You won't. He won't be able to put up a fight. Major Jaha here will go in with you. He'll guide you through this. We all know you've only been bonded very recently." He sounded so sincere, so friendly. "Why don't you give it a try."

Of course she didn't actually have a choice…

* * *

…

When Sergeant Murphy led her into the cell, Clarke felt the change in temperature immediately. It was colder in here. Wells gave her arm a quick squeeze when she stopped walking and she looked at him questioningly.

"You got this, Clarke. I'll be right here. You don't even need me as chaperone, though... It's your second date after all." He smiled at her, trying to lighten the mood with his stupid joke, but she couldn't find it funny and couldn't reciprocate that smile.

She resumed walking, however, until she stood right in front of the chair they had chained Bellamy to yet again. She felt the peculiar urge to reach out and touch him, and awkwardly wrung her hands to stop herself.

He sat slumped over even more than the last time she had seen him. She wasn't even sure he was… conscious.

"Bellamy?"

Murphy awkwardly cleared his throat. "He probably won't respond. He's been out for a while," he casually explained, and Clarke felt weirdly exasperated about his lack of concern. What was wrong with her? This was the enemy. Did she honestly start feeling compassion for him? Was this a side effect of the stupid link?

"Try it with your mind," Wells whispered, his eyes on the Silveren. "Can't believe that Silverscum is really linked to you," it escaped him and she shot him a quick sideways glance. She suddenly realized that this was the first time Wells was in the same room with her link-partner and it was a weird thought somehow. Part of her had almost wished she could keep this to herself.

She tried to focus back on Bellamy and used what Wells had called her "inner voice" to speak to him. She concentrated hard, though she didn't even really know what she was doing, and was surprised when she did suddenly touch on something that sent a jolt of pain through her, so strong that she fell backwards and would have fallen to the ground had it not been for Wells's quick reaction to pull her by her arms.

"Whoa, you okay?" He looked at her with concern as she clung to him, disoriented and panting, but she nodded and inhaled deeply.

"I was just… caught off guard, I guess."

"Did he do anything?" Wells looked angry on her behalf, but she shook her head mildly. "Listen," he implored her, "you gotta remember: _you_ are the one in control. If he tries to hurt you or pull you in too much, you come back here, you hear me?"

She chuckled. He made it sound like she knew what that meant. But she still had no freaking idea. This was all so new to her, so strange. And honestly, she wasn't so sure that she _was_ the one in control. Regardless, she knew she had to try again. The General and his staff were in the other room, behind a two way mirror, watching her every move. They relied on her for important information. They had said she might help end the war.

And she did want that more than anything.

 _Bellamy_.

She waded through the pain, shielding herself as best as she could. It wasn't hers. It couldn't harm her. But it was so vast. There was no barrier at all, she suddenly realized. She had had no trouble entering his mind, she had no trouble going deeper now.

She saw images. Blurry, but there, like she was walking through an underwater movie. Pictures changing lightning fast, so quickly she started to feel dizzy and overwhelmed. Ready to throw up.

 _Bellamy?_

There was no answer. Still.

 _Are you okay?_

Of course he wasn't. That much was quite obvious, had already been obvious from the outside. Still, she went on, prodded his mind here and there. It was so much information, too much, and she didn't understand any of it. It wasn't at all like clear thoughts or anything. She couldn't just sift through his brain and take the answers straight from there. It was as if she needed a translator of sorts.

She'd need _him_.

 _Bellamy. Bell!_

* * *

…

For a while he didn't feel anything other than the pain. It didn't even dissipate when he lost consciousness. It was as if he was trapped in a bubble and everything was just that one sensation.

All he wanted was for it to end. For everything to end. He wanted to die...

He had always hung on to life with a fierce hunger to live, and to stay alive. The prospect of having to commit suicide upon imminent capture had always been looming over him. Maybe that's what had made him cherish every moment, no matter the pain.

But this… this was different. It didn't allow for anything else beside the hurting. And he was done. So done.

Until he felt her. She was calling his name. It sounded almost intimate. So close…

 _Bellamy_...

He clung to the thought of her, tried to focus on her voice. It was so hard…

* * *

…

"I can't reach him."

Clarke had emerged back into the outside world, frustrated with her non-existent progress.

"Try again."

She glared at Wells angrily. Easy for him to say. But this was not Maya, this was not even a Golden, and she simply couldn't do it.

"No."

He raised his eyebrows warningly. "This is not the time to suddenly become selfish-"

"Excuse me?" she interrupted him, glaring at him incredulously, then she cocked her head, realization dawning. "Is this you talking, or Maya?"

He made a face at her, absently playing with the rolled up cuff of his shirt; she didn't need more confirmation. She sighed, shaking her head, defeated. "He's so deep under." She looked straight at the mirror, knowing the General was watching her. "I can't get any information out of him."

Suddenly, she heard static noise, then a disembodied voice: "Sergeant Murphy, some cold water. And the satchel."

While Clarke frowned, alarmed, the Sergeant nodded and left the room briefly. She swallowed, suddenly very uncomfortable.

"What are they going to do?" she whispered as quietly as possible, and Wells beside her answered without moving his lips much, as if he didn't want to get caught.

"You know it."

She frowned, not quite comprehending. "What's the satchel?"

He gave her the briefest of side glances, and she froze.

"They're not going to… torture him, are they?"

"Clarke..." He sighed wearily. "It's standard procedure."

"No." She turned around, toward the wall with the mirror, looking at her own reflection. She was determined. "Excuse me? Sir?"

"What are you doing?" Wells hissed exasperatedly. He had grabbed her by the arm, trying to make her stop, but she shook him off.

"Torture is not going to help anything," she hissed back, then louder, "Sir, I know you can hear me. If you're going to torture him, I'm out. I will not stand by and watch you do that."

The com system crackled again. "Ms. Griffin, we are just trying to offer a bit of help to… accelerate things a little. I'm sure that's in your interest as well."

"I have a bond with this man! If you're going to torture him, you may as well do it to me."

"I thought your connection was quite superficial?"

She pressed her lips into a thin line, trying her best to rein in her rising level of rage. Coldly, she said, "Pain won't change anything. It's the _reason_ I can't get through to him." She raised her chin defiantly, challengingly. "I'm asking you for more time. And… I believe there's a special kind of bandage the Eternals keep on themselves? For when they're not carrying their weapons? I'm asking you," she thought for a moment, then amended, "I'm _begging_ you to please allow me to use it so I can bandage up his arm. Then I'll gladly try again."

Her heart was pounding against her ribcage, she was so nervous. Clearly, she had overstepped the boundaries. She wasn't even military and had dared to put the General on the spot. But she knew she was right. And she hoped he would see that, too.

There was a long pause, in which Sergeant Murphy came back, clearly waiting for the General's orders, and Clarke felt her legs start shaking like crazy.

"Sir?" Tell sounded slightly confused.

Another bout of static, and Clarke closed her eyes in anticipation, when she heard the General's booming voice. "Hold off, Sergeant. And bring Ms. Griffin the prisoner's bandage."

"Yessir!" Murphy looked somewhat disappointed but did as he was told.

"Ms. Griffin. Clarke. You have one chance. If your approach does not bring us answers quickly, we will go with mine."

Her eyes sternly staring at her own reflection, she nodded.

* * *

…

They were still all there. Clarke was acutely aware of their presence just behind the mirror as she carefully touched Bellamy's left arm, the bandage lying ready across her lap. She didn't know what she was doing, just like so often within the last few days. She didn't know whether there was a special way to bind the arm, so she had to go with the standard approach, just wrapping it around and around until the strangely gleaming scar-like mark on his arm was all covered.

 _I hope this helps_ , she told him, not expecting a reply, but she could hear his breathing normalize immediately.

 _They want me to ask you questions. They need information. If I don't give them anything, they'll torture you. They really don't care. They'll probably kill us both._ She gave a small unhappy chuckle. _No one is gonna trust me again anyways. - Ugh. Why did I have to screw this up so badly? Bonding with a Silveren. It's worse than I had ever imagined._

 _I'm sorry._

She started. _There you are._

 _I can't give you that information. You know I can't._

She sighed. She kept her eyes closed, because she didn't want to tip anyone off to the fact that she had made contact with him.

When he stirred, she warned him. _If they know you're conscious, they might do something. I don't want-_

 _Are you worried about me, Clarke?_

She opened her eyes, huffing, and saw him smile at her. She bit her lip, glaring at him. His face was handsome under the grime, his greasy hair falling into his dark eyes. He didn't smell very good. They weren't treating him very well at all. She bit her lip, angry at how her people treated their prisoners. But it was war.

She should have been repulsed by him, but she wasn't. She shot him a glance.

 _I'm simply… looking out for myself. If they hurt you, they hurt me. I can feel your pain..._

 _You_ are _worried about me._ His smile widened, and she caught herself thinking that it was a very handsome smile. But even monsters could look like angels, she reminded herself, and hardened her own expression quickly.

 _I will need that info._

 _And I can't give it to you._

 _We have the chance to end this war. We can show them that we can work together! Use this stupid link for something good!_ She was pleading with him, she didn't even know why, and it angered her.

 _We are just two people. I didn't choose this._ He tapped his head with his chained hand as if she needed to be reminded.

 _Why are you still talking to me telepathically then?_ she challenged, and he grinned.

"I also didn't choose _this_ ," he said out loud, lifting his bandaged arm an inch before letting it sink back down on his leg, grimacing as he did.

"Then let's do something to stop it from happening to others. Tell me how you do this. How we can destroy the technology." She looked at him intently, unaware of her hand resting on his arm until she caught him gazing down on it. Quickly, she took it away, heat flushing into her face as she did.

"You're not that naive, princess, are you?" he asked mildly, and her features darkened. He looked up to the mirror, staring straight at it when he said, "They're simply going to use it to make their own version of the weapons." He looked back to her with a drawn expression, shrugging. "They're not interested in ending this war, princess. They just want to fight it on their own terms."

"Murphy."

The other voice didn't quite register with Clarke until the soldier was already by her side, excusing himself as he pushed her to the side a little to get to Bellamy.

The Silveren looked up to the other man, grinning knowingly, before his arm was grabbed hard and Tell started tearing at the bandage. Bellamy was still smirking, although Clarke could see the strain behind the mask.

"Stop it!" she pleaded, helplessly. But of course the Sergeant didn't listen to her. He had his orders, and she was no one to him. She was searching for Wells, but he had gone over to the other side of the mirror. She was alone in this.

Suddenly, she felt an immense pain shoot into her, and she yelled out, making the soldier jump and shoot a glance over to the mirror in confusion.

"Continue." It was the General.

Clarke was panting, assessing herself. The pain had vanished as quickly as it had come. She was fine. Still standing. She looked over to where Bellamy was sitting and saw him panting, bandage half unraveled, but hanging in there. She squinted at him, suddenly suspicious.

 _Was that you?_ she asked, seething, and she pushed herself past a startled Murphy, grabbing Bellamy's shirt, pushing against his chest. _Did you just… send your pain my way?! To assault me?!_

He smirked, making her even angrier.

"Sergeanf Murphy!" The General's voice sounded distant. Clarke was too focused on her link-partner to pay much attention. "Get her away from him and continue."

 _I was trying to help you. I…_

 _Chill, princess. Just trying to show you something._

 _Show me what? That you can hurt me?_

 _That they don't care about you. They won't stop for you, you realize that, right? They'll end up hurting you, too._

 _Like you'd care about me getting hurt._ She clenched her teeth. She didn't want to let him get to her.

 _I do, actually._

She cocked her head. The sincereness she'd felt in his statement had caught her by surprise.

"Ma'am. Please. I don't want to hurt you."

"What?" She turned in confusion to see Sergeant Murphy standing beside her. His words had jolted her out of her mind conversation. For the first time, she looked at him directly, really taking him in. He didn't look like a bad guy. He had a very young face, soft features, and a sensitivity in his eyes that, under other circumstances, could have made him look friendly. But his actions spoke a different language.

"Could you please step away?" He was indicating Bellamy, and she shifted her weight, contemplating.

"I…" She wavered, unsure of what to think or do next. There was simply too much going on in her head, in her life. She didn't need to put herself on the line for this Silverscum; even if he happened to be her partner. It was not like she had chosen him or anything. She stepped away eventually, arms spread away from her body as if inviting Tell.

"Go ahead. I tried. Looks like he wants it the hard way."

 _Sounds kinky._ Bellamy grinned.

 _Shut. Up._ She didn't grace him with a look. Part of her felt bad already, however. She never used to be someone who just stood by passively while something atrocious was about to happen.

It's just a bandage, she tried to remind herself, but she didn't actually believe it. She knew better. She asked to be excused, looking over to the mirror, wondering what Wells behind it thought of all this.

"You may go while we prepare him for your next meeting. We will make this a set appointment, Ms. Griffin. Every day at the same time, you will meet with the prisoner. Until he'll finally give up the information we need."

She nodded. Of course they wouldn't let it go.

 _See you in your dreams, princess._

She rolled her eyes, then walked over to the door and out. When she heard it fall shut behind her, she briefly leaned against it for support, taking a few deep breaths. She was ready to cry. She was ready to run away.

 _You should._

She closed her eyes. _Why are you still there?_

She could feel his amusement briefly, before he seemed to vanish out of their shared mind space. At the edges, she felt his pain rise to old levels, and she choked down a sob.

No. She didn't want him to suffer through that. But it was his own fault. Right?

Right?


	4. Not without you

…

Days passed, bled into weeks. Bellamy's life felt like it was over. He had entered hell so smoothly, it was only fitting for someone like him. Yet he couldn't give up completely. He couldn't give up what little knowledge of the things they wanted to know he had. He couldn't give up trying to get out, either, trying to flee, even though it usually ended in him getting restrained even more or being left without the bandage for days on end. Still, he couldn't stop fighting.

And he couldn't stop living for those moments she came to see him.

Clarke. With her sorrowful face, blue eyes dim yet still so captivating, she had become the focus of his mind in more ways than the obvious one. He let himself drown in her whenever she was there, got lost for a blissful moment of peace and calm.

"How are they treating you?" she usually asked, and he would cock his head and smirk, the dark circles under his eyes, his whole appearance surely evidence enough, but he would always just say, "I can't complain."

With every new visit, she looked more drawn, tired and exhausted, a mirror of his own demise.

"It's getting to me too," she had admitted, just the day before, and he had given her a sad look.

"I'm sorry. . . I still can't give you what you want…"

"I know."

It had been the first time she had agreed like that with him. Before, she had always argued with him. She had tried to persuade him once she had realized she couldn't force the information out of him by mind-power alone. But now…

She had given up; and he was strangely agitated because of it.

His captors were wearing them both down, he knew it. He felt awful about it, awful for her, and didn't even know why. He'd _hated_ it when she had first invaded his mind. The Golden were a barbaric folk, basically forcing themselves on each other with those links. But during the last weeks, he had grown to appreciate her constant presence, how he always felt her at the edges of his mind. Like a focal point, soothing.

He had often slipped over into their small shared space to escape the pain and breathe for a minute or two, while she had wordlessly put barriers up around them both, shielding them from the blazing sensations racing through his body.

Still. He wouldn't be able to withstand it much longer. If he were to wager a guess, he was also sure that the Silveren military were well on a mission to free or kill him. Any day now. It wouldn't end well for anyone involved.

With a groan, he shifted his position. Almost time for his daily meeting with her. He looked up as he heard the door being opened and let his head drop again when it was only Sergeant John Murphy.

The kid and he had a rather… rough relationship. Bellamy couldn't fault him of course, Murphy was just a foot soldier, and he the enemy. That truth didn't make it any more pleasurable.

"What a nice surprise, seeing you in my humble abode," he quipped, trying to engage. Anything to keep his mind from being preoccupied with itself.

Murphy gave him a stony glare, and Bellamy smirked.

"Aw, come on, John. Nothing?"

He heard the other man sniff in contempt, while he was busy setting up his lovely satchel, ready to prod and poke and make Bellamy more "susceptible" to Clarke's advances, knowing full well that it wouldn't help. Or, at least not with the cause. Maybe with his anger and hatred.

"I think you need a better aggression outlet. You're always so tense." Bellamy raised his chin, taunting the Sergeant more. He didn't know why he always did that. Clarke had caught on to it, had begged him to just stay quiet. She didn't want any part in torture, she had said, and that he wasn't making it easy. He smiled at the memory.

He had held her gaze, not saying anything for a long time. Then he had whispered, "He's gonna do it anyway. I'm just making sure he knows he can't break me."

"Can't he, though?" she had countered, her unwavering gaze piercing him.

Those eyes…

"Maybe _you_ can, but Murphy? No." He had scoffed and smirked, staring at her until she had eventually looked away, until his features had lost all trace of a smile.

It was her face he focused on now, too, blue eyes flickering in the image his mind conjured as Murphy went about his gruesome task and Bellamy clenched his jaw, bracing himself.

* * *

…

Clarke's body felt sore when she walked out of the cabin that had become her home during the last weeks. Wells was smiling at her, giving her a brief hug.

"Good morning." He tried to sound chipper, but she merely looked at him tiredly and went on her way.

Her days were all the same. She went on a morning run, so early it was still dark, then she had meetings and briefings. A lunch break that she usually just used to take a nap and then Wells picked her up to go over to her bond-partner.

Life was a constant repetition of pain, her legs always burning from running too hard, her one outlet for all the pent up anger and frustration and helplessness. Then there was Bellamy's pain, always there, sometimes less prominent, sometimes all encompassing. Whenever it was the latter, she found herself trying to ease it, shield him. Because despite what she had said, despite what she still made everyone believe, she didn't think how they were treating him was right at all. And she couldn't be a part of that. Treason or not. She was just not going to tell anyone. She was pretty sure he wasn't going to do it either.

"I know you don't want to hear this," Wells was just saying, interrupting her musings, "but you need to get this over with. You are the only thing that's keeping them from executing him right now."

"Thing?" She gave him a pointed look.

He huffed. "You know what I mean. - Listen, I talked this over with Maya. She's been meeting with a bunch of other Bonded and they all agree that the best way to get the information will be if you override his mind, like I told you."

She snorted, her breath building a plume of condensation as she did. It was still freezing, as if winter had decided to stay longer this year. Wells was making her more and more angry lately. He was worried about her, of course. But his worry, his constant empty suggestions weren't helping at all.

"You keep forgetting that my bond is not as strong," she started, but he waved an arm, stopping her.

"No, I'm very aware. I am." His features softened, and he pulled her closer to him as they reached the big military building, its gray exterior as unwelcoming as ever. "The Bonded all seem to think that the special nature of your link might be the key. You can enter his mind when his defenses are down, you've done it before. But he hasn't been in yours, right? Only in that shared space?"

She gave a brief nod. She had tried to explain as much to him before. Wells's mouth formed the beginnings of a smile again as he continued, "What if you try and pull him in there?"

She frowned. "Into my head? Pull him, how?" She really wanted to know. All this talk about things that she still hadn't begun to understand, and a handful of strangers, all bonded to someone themselves, seemed to be thinking they had figured it out for her?

"I told Murphy to… intensify his treatment today."

"You what?!" She pulled away from him quickly, glaring at him from the side. She was so angry. He raised his arms in surrender, then shrugged, stepping forward to open the door.

"I know what you think."

"Do you?!"

"That I'm a heartless bastard." He paused briefly, accepting her angry dagger-like stare. "Look, Clarke. I don't want to see you die. Gustus is not known for his endless patience, especially when it comes to the enemy. It's the first time in a very long time that we've been able to capture an Eternal alive; and he wants results."

"So now you're okay with torture." She couldn't look at him anymore or she would explode. Wells took a deep breath.

"He wants it to count that he's been holding off on giving the public the morale boost they need and drown 'your partner,'" he stressed the words with a raise of his eyebrows, "in the pond for everyone to see. And trust me, he doesn't care much about one single Golden woman that has had the misfortune of linking herself to Silverscum."

"Don't use that word," she hissed, helplessly, defeated. Wells didn't even acknowledge that he had heard her.

"He won't wait much longer," he added as the door fell shut behind them, the endless corridors waiting ahead of them. "Unless he'll see there's use in keeping him - and _you_ \- alive. I can't let you sacrifice yourself for nothing. I," he faltered, slightly flushing, and her frown deepened. "I need you, Clarke. Please. I... love you."

* * *

…

Before she had time to even remotely process the bomb he had dropped on her, Sergeant Murphy was already by their side, ever their guide through the hallway maze. They never kept Bellamy in the same room for long, no one was ever to know his exact location except for a very small handful of people. Once Clarke had seen him, he was usually transferred elsewhere quickly. Always on the move, between rooms, between buildings.

"How did it go today?" Wells was asking his fellow soldier as they went. Clarke shot him a glance. She wasn't sure whether he wanted to deflect attention away from himself, whether he wanted to know what Murphy had done to the prisoner, or whether he was just making small talk to extinguish the silence.

"Alright." Murphy gave them both a look, then pointed. "Just around that corner now. Second room to the left. He's… all ready for you, Ma'am."

She tried reaching out through her mind-bond, tried getting a heads up on the state he was in before she would have to face him in a few short moments. Was it bad? Did she need to brace herself? It seemed strange to her that she hadn't really felt much of him at all. But she knew that once the bandage was off, it masked all other pain to her, so she wouldn't know what else they had done to him.

When they came to a dark greenish door, identical to all other doors in the building, Murphy gave them both one last quick glance, ending on Wells. "Major, the General wants you with him again." His expression was unreadable as he nodded to the door right next to them. Wells nodded. He placed his hand briefly on the small of Clarke's back, then off he went, leaving her more cold than before.

"I'll be waiting in the corner right by the door, as usual," Murphy informed her, and she gave a brief nod. She was not ready. But nobody cared.

She kept her head down, trying not to catch Bellamy's gaze, not to look at him as she walked in. The first thing she thus noticed of him were his bleeding fingertips. That was new. Usually, they made sure he looked somewhat cleaned up when she came to visit, as if that could fool her. She frowned, then raised her head after all, her curiosity - or maybe even worry - piqued.

He was sitting very upright, tense, staring straight ahead. Which was also different. Normally, he was more slumped in on himself, and would only raise his head once she had connected.

His face… Her mouth fell slightly open before she caught herself and bit her lip. They had allowed him to take a shower and shave - or maybe they had done it for him, surely not trusting him with any sharp objects. His hair was trimmed, his clothes were new, a plain shirt, a pair of pants, nothing special, but they suited him well, and Clarke caught herself thinking that he cleaned up very very well.

 _Are you going on a date or something? s_ he asked, a small smile on her face that faded quickly when he soberly stated,

 _I believe it was just to make the mock execution earlier seem even more real_ …

She almost forgot to breathe. That was what they were doing now? She felt a horribly uncomfortable prickling sensation creep up her spine, her legs. It was a feeling resembling her panic and shame when she had been caught lying as a little girl, her parents' disappointment in her at the lie worse than the actual deed she had lied about.

 _I'm… so sorry…_ she stammered, lost for anything meaningful to say. Because, what could she say?

 _Nothing_ , he told her, and she slumped into her chair opposite his, not even angry or surprised or shocked at the fact that he had read her thoughts.

 _I guess Wells is right, then... He thinks they're not gonna wait much longer before they'll..._

 _Finish me off?_

She gimaced, but nodded. _He wants me to try and get that information out of you now. Or they'll kill you - and me…_

 _I know. I'm sorry; you don't deserve to die. But… I can't._

 _Please._

 _Clarke. We've been over this._

 _I know. They don't care about me at all, even though I'm one of them. You were right. - I can't protect you, Bellamy. I can't even protect myself._

 _I'm not asking you to. All I want..._ He trailed off, looking somewhere to the side, away from her, away from the mirror. She found herself touching his hand briefly, a jolt going through him as she did, and she let go quickly. She couldn't look at the garish sight of his fingertips so she focused on the side of his face.

 _What do you want, Bellamy?!_

He turned to smile at her. She was sure she had never seen such a weary and sad expression before. She tried to swallow, but her throat was so constricted it hurt.

 _To die_ …

Her eyes widened in shock. Suddenly, she felt so many emotions wash over her it was hard to keep them separate. She heard Wells say "I love you" again, and she wondered how he had meant it. Did he love her like a friend? Like... what? A lover? What about Maya? And why did he tell her now? She noticed Bellamy looking at her, remembered his angry tone again when she had first bonded with him. She took him in, how he sat in front of her, defeated, eyes no longer shuttered, but open wide, showing her that he, too, had a heart, a soul, vulnerable and raw.

It was all too much.

Without even completely knowing what she was doing, she followed a sudden impulse and got up, rushing over to the door where Murphy was standing, waiting. She assessed him quickly, his uniform, his holster with a rare revolver poking out. A key chain...

"Sergeant, could you get me out of here for a moment?" Her voice was a mere breath. The way she stared up at him pleadingly made Murphy look at her concerned and uncertain. This was not standard protocol. The com crackled, but before he had a chance to hear what the General had to say, Clarke abruptly leaned in and swiftly pulled his revolver out, then tried to pull at the key chain.

He quickly tried to fight her off, he was a trained soldier after all and she but a mere civilian. But she had had the moment of surprise on her side and was now in possession of his weapon. She still needed the keys, however.

She flung herself away from him, pointing the revolver straight at his forehead.

"The keys," she ordered as he scrambled away, arms raised, anger in his features.

"Ms. Griffin, you won't be leaving this room alive if you don't lay down your weapon," the General's disembodied voice could be heard over the com just as the door opened and two armed soldiers and a very upset looking Wells entered. Except for him, everyone was aiming at her.

"Put the gun down, Clarke. What are you doing?"

"Keys," she said again, trying her best to not look at Wells and instead concentrated on the Sergeant.

"I can't…"

She bit her lip, hissing, then she swooped over to Bellamy, who stared at her slightly puzzled, or maybe just surprised, and she pulled his head up, baring his throat. She froze briefly upon seeing a thin reddish line wiggle itself around his neck, then swallowed, forcing herself to focus, to ignore it. She pushed the cool metal of the firearm against his skin and raised her chin.

 _Play along. I won't hurt_ you. She felt him swallow under her touch.

 _Don't, Clarke. You'll only get in trouble._

She pressed her lips together, forcing herself to ignore him, too.

"Keys," she ordered again, staring at Murphy. She knew she was bartering with the devil. They had already threatened to kill Bellamy themselves. Wells had just told her how impatient the General was growing, Bellamy had mentioned the mock execution. She was bargaining on the strength of the General's desire to get at least some information out of them first, or at the very least, command's wish to use an Eternal's death as propaganda. Didn't work so well when he was shot behind closed doors.

She really wasn't ready yet to die...

Murphy fumbled, Gustus's voice blabbed on in the background, time passed in a strange combination of slow motion and fast forward. She exchanged a glance with Wells. Then suddenly, he whirled around and took the keys from a startled Murphy and threw them toward her. She stared up as they came flying, disbelieving. Had Wells really just helped her commit treason?

The keys were still flying and then… she caught them in both hands swiftly, their light jingle the only noise for a long second. Then time returned to normal and she hurried to unshackle and unchain Bellamy, pulling at his arm to help him stand.

 _Go_ , she told him, _go_ …

He gave her an intense look, imploring. _Not without you._

 _I can't leave with you._

 _You can't stay._

Her gaze locked on his; she froze. But there was no time. Murphy was already on Wells, who was fighting the other few soldiers as well, when Bellamy suddenly sprang into action, helping him.

There was a quick commotion, too many limbs and grunts and Clarke lost track of what was happening until Wells suddenly pulled her to the side.

"We gotta go _now_ ," he hissed, the other men finally down on the ground. There wasn't much time before reinforcements would come their way, and they would be trapped. Clarke came out of her fog and her limbs started functioning again.

Did they even stand a chance?

The General and his second in command were approaching fast. Guns raised, they entered the too small room. Wells came to a halt, extending his arms to stop Clarke and Bellamy behind him.

"You're making a mistake, Major. This is treason."

""Maybe so, Sir," Wells acknowledged, "But I choose to see it as me making a decision in favor of the Golden people. These two are the first ones to establish an active, working link between a Golden and a Silveren. Shouldn't we rather be investigating that? See it as a chance for peace for all of us, instead of using it as yet another weapon to prolong a war that shouldn't even ever have begun?"

"Major Jaha, you're treading on dangerous ground."

"Let us go, General."

"You know I can't…"

Wells sighed visibly, then nodded. "Of course not."

Then he abruptly shot at the General, not giving his second in command a chance to retaliate, then shot him, too.

Clarke gasped in shock.

Bellamy recovered first, pulling her toward him, then away. Her legs were refusing to work. He put his arms around her quickly, dragging her off with him.

On the ground, Murphy had come to and rolled over, trying to get up. Wells pointed the gun at the other man, their gazes locking.

"Stay down. I don't want to shoot you, too."

Murphy raised an eyebrow, strangely cocky in the moment, but he did spread his arms out in surrender and stayed put. Wells inhaled shakily, nodded, then rushed out quickly, following the other two.

Soon, he had caught up and helped Bellamy carry Clarke's weight as she tried to stumble on, her mind not quite processing what had just happened. This couldn't be real. It couldn't.

Wells had shot the General. They were on the run. But where to? What were they going to do? She had absolutely no idea.


	5. Too cold

...

They made it out of the building without another interference. The door fell shut behind them, sealing away the mess they had left, though surely only for a little while longer before someone encountered it. But they couldn't think of that now. They needed to concentrate on what lay ahead.

Once they were outside, Wells pulled off his jacket, then handed it over to Bellamy in his too thin shirt.

"Put that on. Otherwise you'll stick out like a sore thumb with your… arm and all." He pointed to the strangely gleaming material of the bandage that could barely be hidden by the sleeve of Bellamy's shirt, and he took the jacket from the other man with a small nod of thanks.

"We need to go, now," Wells urged. "They'll sound an alarm soon. They may have already done so." He was all business, ushering the other two to follow him, while Clarke's brain was still refusing to function properly. Her best friend had just shot two people. One of them a General. He had done it to protect her…

"There should be fresh horses in the stalls over there. We need to split up. They'll be looking for us."

"She can't go alone." Bellamy's voice sounded firm. He was still holding Clarke close to his side, although she was walking on her own again.

Wells gave a shrug. "She will have to."

They had reached the shed he had indicated. The soft rustle of hooves and quiet noises from the animals could be heard from inside. When they opened the large barn doors, they made a low groaning noise, and Clarke froze. Had someone heard that?

"Wells," she started, but he shook his head, pressing onward.

"No, Clarke. Listen. There's an old church twenty miles or so from here. It's pretty hidden. I found it on one of my supply runs. We'll split up, I'll ride north, you'll go west, which is the direct way, and Blake… you'll go south first, then turn around."

"How do we find it?"

Wells gave the other man a brief look. "How good is your eidetic memory? I know you guys have pretty insane skills in that regard."

"It's alright…" Bellamy tilted his head, squinting. Clarke was standing huddled by his side, sensing some strange tension between the two men.

"It better be." Wells eyed them both carefully, then quickly unfolded a small piece of paper. He took out a pen to quickly scribble something on it, a map of sorts, Clarke realized, just before he showed it to them. "You'll have to memorize this. We'll have to burn it with the barn once we're on our way."

"Wait, what? Burn the barn?" Clarke was suddenly very alert. What was his plan, exactly?

"We'll set the horses free so the General's troops won't be able to follow us as easily. The best way to do that, is setting a fire. That'll send the horses running. Neither of us can be found with any information on us about where we're headed. I won't have any way of reaching either of you, but you," he looked from Clarke to Bellamy, "you can communicate through here," he tapped his temple.

Clarke pressed her lips together, nodding. "What about you?"

"I'll meet you guys there. Clarke... He will have to show you the way, okay? Do you trust him to do that?" He shot her an imploring glance, and she nodded again. Then he glared over at the man by her side. "You better not fuck this up, man. I swear I'll find you if you bail on her."

"I won't."

Wells leaned forward, his face almost touching Bellamy's. He cocked his head, gauging. The taller man's gaze didn't flicker. Wells sniffed, wiped a hand across his nose, then pulled away again, ready to trust the Silveren soldier for the time being.

"Good. - Let's go."

He guided them over to a couple of happily feeding horses. "Take these two," he told them, "I'll be right out, too."

He waited until Clarke and her partner had mounted the horses before he exchanged one last look with his best friend.

"Wells," she began, but he didn't let her finish. He grabbed her hand tightly for one moment, smiling sadly, then whispered, "I'll see you on the other side."

With that, he gave her horse a clap and it quickly trotted off, Bellamy digging his heels into the sides of his own horse to follow her.

Wells smiled to himself a little ruefully, then grabbed a match from his pocket, lit it on fire against the carrying pillar beside him and set the paper with the makeshift map on fire. He watched the flames grow for a few seconds until he almost burned his fingers, then dropped the paper on the floor, the straw catching on fire immediately. Grabbing the reins of the nearest horse, he pulled himself up swiftly before the poor animal realized what was happening and cajoled it into a gallop.

Once he rode out of the shed, he could hear Maya in his mind, could feel her worry, her anger and despair. _I'm sorry_ , he told her, _We'll talk as soon as-_

 _As soon as what, Wells? You just… jeopardized all of our lives._

 _I'm sorry, Maya._

 _You have one last chance to make this right. Stick to the plan from now on. Report back to me._ She paused, but he knew what she wanted to say. He could feel it. See it. He clenched his teeth, welcoming the cold air in his face.

 _You shouldn't have shot them._

 _It had to look real. It had to_ be _real._

 _You let her partner go._

 _I didn't 'let him go.' I thought that was the plan: get them out, let them work on their bond in the perceived safety of a hideout. Get him to show her what he knows…_

 _The plan was to stay with them, at all times. The plan was to fake an escape, not shoot a freaking General! How do you think I'm supposed to explain that to command here?_

 _Don't._

He focused hard on the wind to block her out, urging his horse on. He had to get away. Not just from this place, from whoever they would send after them. But from her, too. At least for a little while. He knew it wouldn't be for long. It already hurt to block her out…

 _Wells._

He needed time. He needed to think. Alone.

 _You know that's impossible,_ she said _. I'm sorry..._

* * *

…

Clarke clung to her horse as it made its way over uneven territory, the cold wind beating at them mercilessly. The weather had taken a turn for the worse in the last few hours since she had set out on her escape ride, and temperatures had dropped way below freezing once more.

She had started out fast, making good way on her journey, and she had quickly deduced that Wells had picked the easiest route of the three for her. She was grateful for that if also annoyed. He should have given that route to Bellamy, who was not in the greatest shape. She was beginning to notice it more and more over their shared bond, though he was quite obviously trying to keep it from her. But since he was constantly sharing images of the map with her, she could also feel his increasing exhaustion.

 _The cold is getting to you, too,_ she realized and he didn't deny it.

 _We are just not made for this weather._

 _Or torture_ , she thought, only realizing she had communicated that over the link when he calmly conceded, _No one's made for that._

She was about to go on a sudden rant about how his people were treating hers, how their atrocious weapons - his being one of them - tortured her people rather than swiftly killing them in combat. But then she finally saw a dark structure emerge ahead of her, and she turned her focus toward that.

 _I think I can finally see our destination,_ she announced, and she was surprised to feel relief coming from him, though he didn't say anything.

She tried to get her horse to quicken its pace one last time as the path evened out in front of her, and in a few more minutes she reached the old building, slowing the tired horse down into a trot, then gently stroking its head as she whispered "Thank you."

She got off slowly, her legs achy, her whole body stiff as her boots thudded down on the snowy ground and she made her way closer to the now large and looming looking church. She was surprised how intact it seemed to be, even its bell tower. She took a deep breath. As she exhaled, she took the horse by the bridle and walked it closer to the tall front doors where she found the remains of an old fence, half buried in the snow, and she decided to tether the horse to it so it wouldn't run away.

Then she slowly went up the few stairs. She wished she could tell Wells, too, that she had made it out here. But she'd have to hope for the best and wait till he got there as well.

The doors opened with a low squeak, and she turned around, half expecting someone to be there and jump out at her. But the night remained quiet. She quickly made herself step inside and felt instant disappointment when she noticed just how cold it was in there, not much difference to the outside temperature. She looked around, her eyes already accustomed to the dark, and could make out a few rows of pews to either side of an aisle leading toward a small altar and what looked like the pipes of an organ. She briefly wondered whether the instrument still worked. She hadn't heard music in such a long time…

She was unsure of what to do. Try and get a fire started? Inspect the church more to find any potential backdoors?

She decided to make her way toward the back first, then go from there. She felt Bellamy's presence at the edges of her conscience. Suddenly, she had the strange sense of a growing distance between them, like he was drifting off or away from her, and it made her feel deeply concerned, almost panicky.

 _Bellamy? s_ he called out to him, but he didn't respond. She was starting to lose him.

...

She hadn't realized it, but she had stopped in her tracks and was just standing in the middle of the aisle now, eyes staring unseeingly ahead, when something suddenly touched her shoulder.

"Clarke? - Glad you made it." She whirled around to see Wells's relieved looking face, and she furrowed her brow upon encountering him there. He broke into a grin, backing off a little. "Well, I'm sorry if you were expecting someone else…"

But Clarke was just genuinely confused, out of it. How long had she been standing in that aisle, disconnected from the world?

"Wells?"

He looked around, still oblivious to what was going on with her. "Where is our favorite Silverscum, anyways? He should be here by now."

"Wells," she began, grabbing his arm as the panicked feeling came back, threatening to overwhelm her. "I can't reach him. I can't really feel him anymore. I'm," she was stammering, she couldn't help it, "something's wrong. I feel… I feel funny…"

His face fell as concern washed over him. He was holding her by the arms now, but when she looked at him, she had a hard time figuring out whether he was real, or just a figment of her imagination, an apparition caused by her mind alone.

"Wells…" She wanted to say more, but her tongue was refusing to work, her brain feeling frigheningly paralyzed and numb. Was she dying? Had Bellamy died? Was that it?

* * *

...

"Clarke. Clarke! Oh, crap." Wells looked around himself, assessing the place. It was still as he had last seen it, windows still blocked by wooden bars, pews untouched. No one else besides him had come here. Good.

He would have to leave her here for a bit. If he wanted to get a chance at saving her, he would have to go out there again. Her partner was dying. He knew it in his heart. He had seen it happen to others before. He wasn't going to let that happen. Clarke couldn't die. She was better than any of them combined. She was the future…

"Come on, Clarke. Let's sit you down."

Slowly, he picked her up, carrying her over to the nearest pew and laying her down on it. He made sure she wasn't going to fall off, then gently kissed her forehead before rushing over to the back of the church where he had stashed some blankets before. He pulled a few of them out, bringing them all over to her, wrapping her up as best as he could. Her lips were the same color as her cheeks, an ashen tinge to them that worried him. He needed to hurry.

That bastard had better not died yet.

"I'll go find him for you. I'll make sure he's okay. I'll be back. You just hang in there. Please…"

 _What's going on?_

Maya. He sighed. He couldn't do this now. She would have to get it all out of him herself. He knew she would. No need to actively divulge any information if she could just read it herself.

 _Not going according to plan at all, is it? I hope you'll get to him in time. I talked to General Wallace. He is, dare I say it, 'glad' that you got Gustus out of the way. Turns out the man has been on a list for a while. Making decisions command hasn't approved of. He was supposed to bring Clarke's link-partner over here weeks ago._

She made a pause. Wells was already out by his horse again, the poor animal sweaty and tired from the long ride. He hoped he wouldn't have to go far or they might all die…

 _You haven't tried reading any of this in my mind, Wells. You've retreated. You're so far away from me these days. Are we okay?_

 _We are, Maya. I'm just… busy, is all. In over my head. I hate that Clarke had to be dragged into this mess. She's…_

 _I know. I love her too. And we don't want to lose her. We won't. Now go. The church is safe. Wallace has seen to it that no one will try and follow you, either. Besides, they don't know where you are._

 _Please don't tell them, Maya._ He had hopped onto the horse's back and was adjusting his position in the saddle.

 _I won't._

He had to believe her. He wanted to. But somewhere deep down, a feeling began to grow in him, distrust. And it was eating at him.

 _I'll let you go._

And with that, he dug into the horse's flanks and raced off as fast as the poor animal could still go, snow flying as they went.

* * *

...

Wells was cold and exhausted, the moonless night dark and almost impenetrable around him. He needed to find the Blake kid. Soon. He didn't know what he would do if he didn't. What if he had already died?

He shook his head, forcing himself to not entertain such pessimistic thoughts and went on. The horse was tired, too. Eventually he just got off and stalked through the snow, holding the bridle loosely. "You're a good girl," he whispered. "I'm sorry for pushing you so hard. We just need to find him. If he dies, so will Clarke. That can't happen."

The horse nuzzled him from behind, as if it understood, and he smiled sadly. Then, suddenly, he cocked his head. A sound. Was that…

He walked past a few shorter bushes, finally seeing what he'd set out to find. The Eternal, Clarke's partner. Wells held his breath, and bit his lip as he rushed over there.

The man was lying on the ground, no horse in sight, and Wells quickly bent down to lightly touch his neck, feeling for a pulse. When he finally felt the smallest sign of life, he closed his eyes briefly, allowing relief to wash over him, before he quickly began to lift the other man up.

"Bellamy Blake, you are one heavy bastard," he muttered to himself, then addressed his horse. "I'll have to put him on your back, I'm sorry, girl. He's just a little too much dead weight for me right now. Please don't tell anyone. Don't want to deconstruct the myth here. You know, of the strong man and all…"

He chuckled, trying to distract himself. He was running out of time. Even in the dark of night he could tell that the Silveren's lips were icy blue, his temperature way too low from lying on the cold ground for however long. "What happened to you, huh?" he asked the unconscious man, not expecting an answer, as he tried to hoist him up onto the horse. When he had finally succeeded, he was panting, more exhausted than ever, and ready to take a break. But there was no time.

"Alright. Let's get you to Clarke. And don't you dare die on me."

He quickly made sure that the bandage was still in place, glancing at the man's torn out fingernails as he did. He flinched. Maybe he should have given Bellamy the easiest route. He had wanted to get Clarke to the church quickly and safely. He had mistakenly thought of her as the weakest link, because unlike him and Bellamy, she wasn't military. She had no training. He had worried about her more, because he cared about her. It had made him completely disregard what seemed so obvious now: that Bellamy had been too weakened by the torture. Wells stared grimly ahead. He had messed this one up. If the kid died, if Clarke died, it was on him.

"Go!" he yelled at the horse and tried to run alongside it as they made their way back to the church as fast as possible. He had to get the Silveren out of the cold.

* * *

…

Clarke came out of whatever stupor she had been in only to find herself laying on one of the benches with thick blankets over her. But she was still shivering. And she needed to pee. She peeled herself out of her cocoon and slowly made her way over to a small door she had spotted beside the altar.

She remembered seeing Wells in the church. The blankets told her that he had really been there. But he had left again. To find Bellamy.

Her breath hitched. If she was still here, that meant he was still alive. There was still hope.

Much to her relief she found a small bathroom stall, old and out of order, but she didn't care. She would use it anyway. She pulled her pants down, hoisted her thick coat up and perched herself over the toilet bowl, feeling incredible and instant relief when she emptied her bladder after so many hours. She was ridiculously grateful for the dwindling supply of paper towels she found on top of the toilet and used one to wipe herself, then put her clothes back on. The mundane task seemed to help her regain her bearings a little.

She had just gone back over to her pile of blankets, very slowly, her legs didn't quite want to work all that well, when suddenly, the door flew open and in came a gust of snowy wind and then Wells, dragging someone else in.

Bellamy.

She gasped and jolted up, trying to meet them quickly. She stumbled and fell, her body protesting, refusing service. But she got up again right away. She had to. And she ran.

"He's too cold," she heard Wells rasp, exhaustion marring his features. There was a sheen of perspiration on his face, despite the cold. He must have raced back.

"Had to carry him the last mile or so." He panted as if by way of explanation, and she nodded. "Friggin' horse collapsed…"

She gave him a look, unsure of what to think or feel or do. He just shrugged and dropped Bellamy on the ground rather unceremoniously, falling to his knees as he did, and stared at her.

"Glad you're hanging in there." He gave her a brief smile, then sobered. "We need to get him warm. Found him lying in the snow. I'm not sure what happened. Might have just been the cold, you know how they are... Or the torture." He gave her a pointed look. "We'll have to check his injuries. I just need a moment…"

He was panting so heavily now that his voice gave out, and Clarke put a soothing hand on his shoulder.

"Thank you," she whispered, then moved over to Bellamy's still form, pulling him closer to her, as Wells watched.

She suddenly remembered an old lesson on hypothermia; skin warming skin better than anything else… Then, much to her own surprise and Wells's shock, she opened her coat, and took off her sweater, shivering as the cold air struck her.

"What the hell are you doing?" Wells sounded exasperated, or like she had gone crazy. She gave him a look.

"Getting him warm. Can you get me the blankets?"

He stared for a moment, then nodded, finally realizing what her plan was, and he pushed himself up to walk over to the pew.

Clarke quickly unbuttoned Bellamy's damp cold shirt, briefly examining the marks on his torso, his arms. Her fingers lingered over his skin, his chest barely moving as he took the shallowest breaths. She bit her lip and had to force herself to look away, instead focusing on his face. She gently swept a strand of his hair away, then pulled him close to her.

 _Please stay with me, Bellamy..._

When Wells came back with the blankets, she nodded to the ground and he put them there. As she was carefully laying down on top of some of them, still holding Bellamy close, her warm skin was touching the ice that was his, and she could almost feel a little bit of life coming back to him. Then Wells spread another few blankets on top of them, tucking them in carefully, and she looked up at him briefly.

"Sorry for flashing you." She chuckled weakly, and he broke into an honest laugh.

"That should be the least of your worries. Besides, there's absolutely no need to apologize." He wiggled his eyebrow at her playfully. "That guy," he pointed with a jerk of his head, "doesn't even deserve you. He's one lucky bastard."

"Not sure I'd call it lucky, after everything..." She was already drifting off, suddenly feeling the strong pull of exhaustion as she lay in her cocoon of warmth, Bellamy's naked skin against her, and his shallow breaths were slowly lulling her into a deep sleep...


	6. Stay

…

Sun shone through the cracks of the wooden boards in front of the windows. A few of the stained glass panes were still intact. After all this time, they were still beautiful to behold, and the few rays of sunshine that managed to touch them from the outside made them sparkle with vibrant colors.

When Bellamy first opened his eyes, deeply exhausted, but somehow feeling the pull of consciousness, his brain had difficulty processing what he saw.

Prisms of color. Misty morning air. The smell of days long gone. And then Clarke's bare neck, her long slender arms draped around him, her honeyed tone a stark contrast to his own paleness. Her head was resting on his bare chest, her hair a soft cloud around it. He was so confused he didn't even frown. He just took it for what it was, a fact.

He breathed her in, strangely comforted by their intimate embrace. Then she opened her eyes, too, and blinked when their gazes met.

"You're up," she breathed, her cheeks flushing so adorably he had to smile. She pushed herself up and into a sitting position, shily draping a blanket over herself, sweeping loose hair out of her face once she was done. All he could suddenly think of was the lack of her warmth against his body, the absence of her heartbeat next to his.

"I was just trying to get you warm…" Her voice was not much more than a quiet whisper, her lips forming a half smile when she fell silent.

For some reason, words didn't want to form, and he could just stare up at her for a while, a quiet between them so peaceful and profound that he could hear the breaths she was taking. In and out. In and out.

"Bellamy?" She sounded very uncertain. Her unreadable eyes on him, he felt real concern, and the sensation was so foreign, so jarring, that he was suddenly very self conscious and sat up too abruptly. For a moment, the world swayed dangerously around him, and he was glad he wasn't standing. Then he felt her hand on his bare shoulder, and the swaying came to a stop.

"Are you okay?" She looked at him with concern. "I'm sorry if I…"

"No. _I_ 'm sorry."

He was still staring at her. She smiled at him.

"Well, look who's up," another voice suddenly chimed in, and it was as if the moment shattered into a jumble of tiny pieces around them. Bellamy looked over to where the voice was coming from, while Clarke quickly put a sweater on that had lain among the blankets somewhere.

It was Wells, of course. He was grinning widely at them both, something in his hands, and Bellamy quickly realized that it was a dead rabbit, its fresh hot blood steaming in the ice cold air.

"I brought lunch. Or breakfast. Whatever you want to call it. - Clarke, it looks like you saved the Scum's life again." He sounded casually chipper, and Bellamy felt the sudden urge to snap at him.

"Well, technically, I wouldn't have needed 'saving' if she hadn't done her thing with me." He tapped his head before getting on his feet, picking up his shirt as he did. He quickly put it on, hiding his scars and injuries underneath, including his bandaged arm. He rubbed over it absently once he was dressed, then found himself facing an unhappy looking Clarke.

He cocked his head, lips curling into a half smile. _You're upset_.

 _I'm_ …

He could tell she wanted to ignore him, didn't want him to see how right he was, but she failed miserably, and he had to stifle a full-blown smile so as not to anger her even more.

 _You keep bringing this up like I had a choice. I told you I didn't. It just happened! Okay? Can we move on now?_

 _Clarke..._

 _I'm not a horrible person! I'm... I'm trying to be one of the good guys! If I had known they'd torture you, I would have never..._

To Bellamy's horror, tears started welling in her eyes, and a flustered looking Wells suddenly rushed over, shoving his chest hard. "What the hell did you do, huh? _Huh_?!"

"Calm down, man." Bellamy pushed the other man off him, trying to step away. But Clarke's annoying friend wasn't making it easy.

"You made her cry. She saved your freaking worthless life and you made her cry?!" Wells's face was not an inch away from Bellamy's when he threatened to move forward even more, but Bellamy didn't back down.

He grinned at the other man calmly. "I believe you could also say she was just trying to save her own…"

"You fu-"

"Wells, stop." Clarke's voice was level, tired almost. Bellamy took strange pleasure in the fact that she hadn't reprimanded him as well.

"He's insulting you, Clarke. He made you cry. Do you think I'll just stand by and-"

"Yes! Yes, Wells. That's exactly what you're going to do! This is _my_ business!"

Wells looked from her back to her bond-partner, exasperation making him momentarily speechless. He was still in the Silveren's personal space, but Bellamy smirked at him regardlessly.

"You heard the princess. I'm _her_ business."

Wells glared at him, ready to throw punches, when Clarke called his name again, and he suddenly backed off, grumbling under his breath.

"Fine. I'll get a fire going, and don't blame me if I roast a certain Silver someone alongside this bunny here…"

With that, he stomped off, though not before stopping right next to Clarke and whispering something in her ear. Bellamy was acutely aware of the way she put a caring hand gently on her friend's cheek for a moment before they parted and she stalked over to where he was standing. He looked at her, saw the tears still gleaming in her eyes. He clenched his teeth, fighting with something, when she suddenly bent down and picked up the jacket Wells had given him the day before.

"We'll need to find you something warmer to wear."

"Clarke."

She wasn't looking at him when he took the piece of clothing from her, and it gave him a pang.

"Can't risk you freezing to death out there. Because, you're right. I care about my own life." She suddenly looked up at him, and there was a gleam of fight in her eyes.

"I'm sorry that I upset you," he quietly allowed, stepping just a little closer to her, gently tapping her chin to make her look at him. When she reluctantly raised her head, he continued, "I'm not blaming you. I… know a thing or two about having no choice in the matter." He lifted his arm ever so slightly, to underscore his point, and he could tell by the softening of her features that she believed him, and he smiled a small smile. "I know you didn't actively do this - or choose me. Doesn't mean I can't hate it, does it?"

She worried her lips, suddenly looking more upset again, but she didn't move.

"I've had things done to me before, Clarke. Things I hated. I've learned to live with them." He had to tap her chin again and saw that it was wobbling as she tried to keep herself from starting to cry. _I'll learn to live with this, too. And so will you_.

 _How? We are… enemies, Bellamy._ She averted her gaze, her hand coming up to cover her face. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Wells looking over to them from where he sat, bristling, busying himself with skinning the small animal. Bellamy's attention quickly returned to the girl before him when she went on, _We are on the run. I can't go back to my own people. I can't go anywhere. I'm forever linked to the enemy, and I just don't know how to handle this whole bond. It was never supposed to be like this._

 _You can come with me. Stay with me._

He meant it.

...

Clarke snorted at his suggestion - or was it a proposal?

"I can't do that."

"Why not?" He gave her a genuinely curious look. It made her smile.

What was going on with her? One night spent next to his half naked body and she was falling for him? Was that it? He was still the enemy. Bonding with him had upended her entire existence, jeopardizing her whole identity as a Golden. And here she was, actually considering his vague offer. She really hoped he couldn't hear any of her thoughts…

"You could just hand me over to your… authorities," she challenged, but he gave a light shake of his head.

"You don't know much about me, bond or not. You don't know very much about my people."

"Which is why I can't trust you,"'she said, but with a grin, and he smirked back at her.

"Touché."

"Everything alright over there?" Wells was calling over from his spot by the altar, and Clarke nodded over to him absently. For a brief moment she wondered why he had decided to skin and cook the stupid rabbit inside, but then she realized it was because of her. He didn't want to leave her alone. She was both flattered and annoyed by that, and surprised that the annoyance was slowly growing stronger.

Something else was happening, and she suddenly realized what that was. She had been in love with Wells Jaha for what seemed like forever. She had gotten used to the feeling of unrequited love, to pining after a man that would forever only be a friend to her. And then he had sprung his own love on her at a time where she had not expected it to happen anymore. At a time when she had finally, finally come to terms with that and had found something else to focus on. Some _one_.

Suddenly her feelings were all over the place.

She merely waved and nodded in his direction, smiling briefly, and she could tell by the look he gave her that he wasn't quite convinced.

 _You can go with him, too_ , Bellamy suggested, raising a brow at her as if he had seen right through her, _but you'd be at his mercy_.

 _At his mercy? He's my friend. He was the one saving your life yesterday. He did it for me_ , she pointedly told him. _He's been there for me through a lot. If anything, I'll be safest with him. I trust him with my life. While I don't trust you with anything_.

She couldn't quite read his expression at all, it was guarded, his eyes and mind shuttered. She almost physically felt the distance between them grow again, when suddenly he said, _He was there after they killed your family, wasn't he_?

She swallowed drily, shocked. She knew he had been there when she had had the nightmare, had seen it happen. But she hadn't ever expected him to bring it up, nonchalantly, in conversation…

 _Yes_ , she allowed

Bellamy nodded. _I'm_ _glad_. He paused, contemplating, then he sighed deeply _. But Clarke._

 _There is no 'but_ ,' she objected, bristling. Before she had a chance to make up her mind whether she wanted to discuss this any longer or simply walk away, however, he already continued with his reasoning.

 _Can you honestly say that you can still trust him? Or, should I say, can you trust the one he's linked to? In your current situation? - Where is she, anyways? It's a she, right? - More importantly, who is she with_?

He sighed, looking at her too friendly. She hated him in that moment, or maybe herself, or the whole damn situation, when she noticed that he had succeeded. She hadn't thought about Maya all that much in the last few weeks. At least not in the way Bellamy seemed to have. Maya was her friend by extension. The girl had been linked to Wells for so long now that Clarke couldn't imagine life without her somewhere in it anymore.

But Bellamy was right. Wells had a constant link to her. Even though Clarke wanted to trust them both like she always had, she was now wanted. Bonded to an enemy soldier.

 _Wells is just as much on the run as we are. He killed a General. For us,_ she reasoned, slowly retreating.

Bellamy grimaced. _That may be so. But it doesn't counter my argument: What about her?_

 _She's my friend, too. She wouldn't do anything to harm me._

 _Are you sure of that? If it could save Wells, and thus herself?_

She wanted to say more, but she couldn't. She wanted to bring up loyalty and trust. But the seeds of doubt had been sown, and she felt more lost than before. She would have to talk to Wells. She gave Bellamy a long look, his gaze trained on hers, never breaking contact. She felt him reach out to her through their bond, felt herself open up to it, almost involuntarily. Then she closed her eyes, letting herself float for a bit, following her thoughts, his emotions, just diving in, trying to forget the outside world for a while.

It was a bit of a surprise to still feel so much pain hiding behind his barriers, as if she had forgotten the ordeal of the last couple days. Weeks…

 _You're still hurting._

 _So are you._

She smiled to herself.

 _Is it always there? The pain?_ She knew the answer, but she needed to hear it.

He gave her a look, a nod _. You make it easier for me, though. - While I make it harder for you, don't I? - I'm sorry_.

His words startled her, the honesty behind them, the vulnerability she could discern.

 _You're strong, Clarke. Stronger than me. Maybe it'll work out for you. Maybe, if you'll just let me get on my way..._

 _Bellamy..._

He sighed wearily.

 _I'd leave right away, but I doubt I'd make it very far. I could probably use another day or two to recuperate, but then I could_ … He didn't continue, but he didn't have to. She knew what he meant, and she knew it was true. His battered body needed a little more time. Probably more than two days.

She didn't want him to go even after that, though. Not then, not in another few days. Not ever.

She wanted him to stay.


	7. Betrayal

…

A small fire was crackling by the altar. Wells was sitting perched over it with a stick in his hand, roasting the rabbit's meat carefully. He had discarded the skin and entrails and other matters of his gruesome butchering job earlier. If they were to stay in his hideout for a while, they didn't want it to smell and look like death.

Clarke and her bond-partner were still standing over by the pile of blankets, as if lost to the world, or just lost in their minds, and he couldn't deny feeling a bit left out, and yes, jealous. The tall Silveren was doing something to Clarke and Wells didn't like it.

 _She's growing away from you._

Wells took a deep breath, weary and defeated. Maya. She wasn't wrong.

 _Looks like she's finally found something to occupy herself with._

 _You don't like that it's a 'he_.'

 _I don't like that it's a Silveren. A freaking Eternal to boot_.

 _We always knew there'd be a high chance for her to end up with a bond. Her parents both had one, after all._

Wells sniffed, rubbing his nose absently as he listened to her voice inside his head. She sounded so close, yet he hadn't seen her face in weeks, hadn't lain with her, touched her skin. It was almost as if she was just that voice in his mind now.

 _Of course_ , he allowed. _But no one ever said anything about a Silveren being involved. This is a mess, Maya._

 _And it doesn't help that you're in love with her…_

He didn't know what to say. He'd been able to ignore it, keep it to himself for the longest time. But something must have shifted. The thought, the feeling, must have grown too strong to shove it back into the darkest corner of his brain, where he had been hiding it away from himself and thus from her. He wasn't going to deny it anymore. It was not like he could.

When he didn't say anything for a long time, Maya eventually prodded him again. _Any progress?_

He almost shook his head. Sometimes, even after three years with the bond, he still forgot to rein in his reflexes to give bodily clues in conversation.

 _It hasn't even been a full day yet since we got here,_ he informed her.

He noticed that the rabbit was done and absently waved over to the other two, inviting them to join him. Clarke smiled at him briefly before he watched her and Bellamy make their way over to him.

Maya wasn't going to let it go yet. _Right. It's just… you're in this deep now, Wells. We need to show Wallace some good will. That you're Commander Jaha's son won't be enough. Even he can't save you now. I need something. Anything_.

He hated this; he hated his role in their plan. He was basically spying on his best friend, setting her up.

 _You're not setting her up. You're trying to save her. You're trying to get all information out of her partner now so that we can swoop in and lock him up and she won't ever have to deal with him again._

 _He's still her link partner._

 _He's the passive one. You said their link connection is not very strong. She is still pretty much her own separate being, right? Not like us._

 _No. Not like us._

"This actually looks pretty mouth-watering. I must be starved." Clarke's bright voice jolted him back to the here and now, and the church and the fire slowly came back into focus as Maya faded into the background once more.

 _I need_ something, _Wells_ …

"Only the best for my favorite gourmande. I'd serve it with potatoes and maybe some green beans. But we are all out of potatoes-"

"And all out of beans," Clarke finished for him, smiling wistfully. "Thanks for doing this."

"Killing bunnies? Cooking?"

She gave him an eye roll and a light nudge. "You know what I mean. Thanks for looking out for me… for us. For helping us."

He nodded to her with a grin. "Anything for you, Clarke. I'll even save the Silverscum of the earth for you." He shot Bellamy a glance, who rolled his eyes, not gracing Wells with a retort. Instead, he quietly sat down on the opposite side, staring Wells down, almost as if he wanted to keep taps on each and every one of Wells's movements. Which was probably the real reason. The man was an elite soldier after all.

"How's your girl?" Bellamy suddenly asked, and Wells had to blink at the unexpected question. He cocked his head, masking his frown with a halfhearted grin. "My girl?"

Clarke grimaced as she took a piece of meat from his outstretched hand, quickly biting into it. Her features softened when the bliss of food hit her tongue, and she spoke while chewing, her words coming out muffled. "He means Maya…"

He tried not to glare too hostilely. "In that case: thanks, she's doing well. A little busy at the hospital lately. With you guys attacking us left and right. Stupid Eternal - colleague of yours, I assume? - wreaked some havoc among our troops down in the east. Heard they got him, though. He's now dead of course. Got the good old lake treatment."

He was taunting Bellamy, of course. In truth, he had no such information. That an Eternal had wounded a lot of their people, that part was true. But the lake… or even that they had caught the Weapon Bearer, that was something he had made up on the spot. Maya hadn't had that kind of information. Or maybe he just hadn't looked for it. As far as he knew, the lake hadn't seen a Silveren in at least a decade.

"What is the lake treatment?" Bellamy asked casually, frowning, looking both wary and genuinely curious.

Wells's own frown deepened.

"You haven't heard of the Eternal Lake?"

The other man shrugged, biting into a charred piece of meat that Wells had handed him. "Should I?"

"I guess our propaganda isn't as great as our people hope, huh, Clarke?"

Wells threw a glance in her direction. She made a face, shaking her head briefly. "Don't," she mouthed. She clearly didnt want him to dwell on the matter, but it was as if a sudden urge had come over him, and he couldn't stop.

"Well, I guess at least it works on our side. Let me explain it for our dear Silverscum."

"Wells." His name sounded like a warning that he didn't heed.

"We throw all dead and all captured Eternals in there. We drown them. So, whenever yet another Eternal dies in the lake, our people will cheer for days. They'll celebrate." He looked at Bellamy somewhat triumphantly, but the Silveren remained oddly cool.

"So your people don't celebrate very often," he stated soberly, riling Wells with his calm. He pushed his sleeves up some more, then clenched his fist as Bellamy continued. "Because I know for a fact that hardly any of us ever get caught alive. You could say I'm the inglorious exception. I'm sure my people would be just as thrilled as yours if you'd just dump me in that lake."

"Watch it, or I might."

"Actually, I'm curious about that, _Wells_." Bellamy put the focus of his intonation on the name, and it really got under Wells's skin for some odd reason.

"Oh ya? What makes you so curious there?" Wells didn't avert his gaze from the other man, not even when he heard Clarke gently say Bellamy's name. It sounded so intimate. So close. And he suddenly started to feel like an outsider. It was not a great feeling. He began to understand how Clarke must have felt whenever she was out and about with him and Maya. A third wheel. How had she been able to stand it?

"Come on, princess. Let's try and have him answer our burning questions."

She sounded tired when she spoke next. "I don't think I want to have any part in that."

"That's quite alright. I'm perfectly happy to do it myself."

Bellamy grinned, and Wells sighed, annoyed. The rabbit was almost gone, Bellamy had barely had any of it. Although he didn't seem to care, Wells couldn't help but take the last piece of meat and bite into it with all the pleasure and gusto he could muster. The Silveren merely grinned at him.

"It's good meat, you should really have some more. Oh, wait…"

"Very funny. - What I wanted to know… how far would you go for Clarke? How far would you go for Maya?"

"What kind of question is that?" Wells leaned back a little, wary.

"You keep playing Clarke's knight in shining armor, though she's far from being a damsel. I'm just curious… who will win if you're ever put into a situation where you have to choose?"

"Why would I have to choose? This is not a-"

"Because your 'Maya' is now with the enemy."

"She's with our troops."

Bellamy shook his head. "You killed that General. Clarke is linked to the enemy - to me. None of us are on the Golden side. They will be after you for treason. There's no coming back from that, unless…"

Wells jumped up, angry now. "Unless what?! What are you insinuating? Huh?! _You_ are the enemy, yes. Clarke and I-"

"Did you listen to me? You are endangering her, Wells. Can you truly say that you are on her side? Have her best interests at heart?"

"Bellamy." Clarke sounded very calm.

Wells found himself looking at her exasperatedly. "Where is this coming from, huh? Can you believe him?" His question made her look at him strangely apologetically. And suddenly he understood. "Do _you_ think he has a point?!"

She stared at him. "He is just worried." She took a deep breath and got up to place a soothing hand on his arm. "We don't have any control over who Maya talks to. She knows we are here..."

"She's our friend! She's never done anything to hurt us. Why would you even begin to entertain these stupid ideas he plants into your brain?!"

He was bristling. He was so upset he couldn't even put it into words. But Clarke's sad expression gave him pause.

"He _has_ a point, Wells. You know he does. I didn't want to hear it, or believe it. I still don't. But I _am_ wary. I'm scared. This is new for all of us. There's never been anyone in a link-relationship with a Silveren before." She bit her lip, looking briefly over to her partner, then back to him, "When I was a little girl, I always dreamed of being special. I dreamed of being a princess, of finding my prince, just like how my parents found each other." She chuckled to herself, but she looked so sad it pained him. "When I met you… I really didn't like you at all. You were always so self-righteous, so much better than the rest of us."

"Hey hey," he made, smiling sadly, then falling quiet once more, listening to what she had to say.

"But then I got to know you better, and you were just such a great person. Then, when my parents..."

She choked down a sob and he gently touched her cheek.

"You were there for me, Wells. You've always been there for me, ever since. And I fell in love with you. Of course you were with Maya, and I've always been happy for you guys. I just… it was never about me, you understand? It was never about me. - But now it is."

"It's always been about you, too, Clarke," he tried, but she shook her head.

"I need to look out for myself now. Because someone else is relying on me. Really truly relying on me. This is a chance for all of us. A Golden and a Silveren bonded together like this? That's huge. But it's also pretty terrifying, like we have the world against us. I can't just trust anyone anymore. I wish I could; I know it's not fair. But war isn't fair either."

"I know." He had finally seen through her. She had talked without saying much, never really admitting that she suspected anything. But he knew she did, and the worst, he knew she was right. He sighed, dropping down where he had sat before, looking at both of them, then letting his head droop. "You're right," he muttered, defeated, tired of keeping up a facade. He waved a weary hand in Bellamy's direction. " _He_ is right."

 _Wells, don't_.

"We are working together with command. This has all been their plan." He looked away, he didn't want to see Clarke's face drop, but he could feel the change in atmosphere, could hear her suck in air too violently.

"What?!"

"Since when has your command been involved?" Bellamy's voice sounded level, emotionless.

"Since you've been captured."

"The whole escape…"

"Their idea."

He saw Clarke slump down opposite him, close to where Bellamy was now standing. He caught a glimpse of the Silveren's hand on her head, an intimate gesture that she didn't shrug off. They were growing closer. Whether they wanted to or not, whether they knew it yet or not, he could see it from a mile away. Maybe their mind-bond wasn't very strong, but they were certainly forming a bond of some kind, and that one was going to be much stronger than anything superimposed could have ever been. And it hurt.

Her voice was very small when she suddenly said, "The torture…"

He sighed, feeling like _he_ was the scum of the earth after all.

"With your history, what your parents went through... They needed to know what would make you go to such an extreme that you'd actually go against them and help him escape so that we could get you two together, lull him into thinking he can trust you, confide in you."

"You used my parents."

"I'm sorry..."

She jolted up suddenly, staring daggers at him that hurt almost as much as the real thing. Then her lips formed a thin line as she quite obviously tried to rein in her anger before walking past him, and away, toward the door. He got up and made to follow her, but he felt Bellamy's hard grip on his arm, met the other's dark eyes, and stopped in his tracks. They stared at each other for a long time, neither of them saying a word. They heard the door being opened and falling shut with a loud bang, and even then, they still just stood there, gauging each other.

Then, finally, Bellamy shook his head and let go. He turned on one foot and quickly walked down the aisle, going after Clarke.

"Don't follow her," he ordered, just that, and Wells didn't. He couldn't. He couldn't even move. In the back of his head he felt Maya's wrath surface.

 _What have you done_?!


	8. In defense of Wells

...

It was a crisp cold day, but the sky was finally showing a smidgen of blue again and the promise of spring could almost be felt.

Almost.

Clarke kicked against a hard pile of snow, cold crystals flying left and right, the light wind sending them up into her flushed face. She was so angry, so hurt that she couldn't think properly.

Her best friend had betrayed her. Of all people, it had been Wells Jaha who had orchestrated everything she had gone through since becoming linked to Bellamy. Everything had been a lie. He had lied to her face. She had been so grateful when he had gone back out to go save Bellamy from the cold, to save her, only to learn that it could have all been prevented.

 _You don't know that, princess._

She whirled around to see Bellamy standing not far from her. He only had Wells's stupid uniform jacket to protect him from the cold and had shoved his hands deep into the pockets of his pants, trying to keep himself warm.

"What are you doing out here?" Clarke walked over to him, pulling the jacket closed for him, only noticing what she was doing when he smiled down on her. "You really need a thicker jacket," she mumbled self consciously, then looked up to him, suddenly lost for words.

He had such a handsome face. Long dark lashes, dark eyes, his pale skin a stark contrast to the almost black of his hair. She felt herself drawn to him more and more, she couldn't deny it. She had wanted to distance herself from him as much as possible with their bond, but even that wish was starting to fade away. She didn't care anymore who he was, who she was. A Golden and a Silveren...

He was the only one that still seemed true to himself. Who hadn't pretended to be someone else in front of her.

"Just wanted to make sure you're okay." He touched her cheek, ever so lightly, his hand strangely cool against her heated skin. "I'm sorry. I didn't want to be right." He gave a small unhappy chuce. "I didn't think it would go this far back…"

His hand was still on her face, the touch calming her, grounding her. She gave a shudder, then raised her arm and put a hand over his, with the intention to move his away. But she didn't.

"I feel like it's all my fault. What they did to you…"

"I'm an enemy soldier, Clarke. They would have done it anyway."

She frowned at him, unhappy. Unconvinced. They didn't know what could have happened, whether anything would have gone differently. But she wanted to believe it could have gone better.

"Hate to bring this up, but…"

"I know. We can't stay here," she finished his sentence, and he nodded briefly, finally taking his hand away again and shoving it into his pocket. She had to smile; he was so obviously too cold.

"Let's get you back inside before you freeze. How have your people even managed to survive out here during winter time?" She shook her head, then nodded for him to follow her.

For a moment she pictured herself intertwining her arm with his, walking back together like that. But she caught herself and put a stop to it. He was still the enemy. Or maybe he wasn't. Maybe he was the one person who was on her side.

They were a team.

* * *

…

A few hours later, Wells stood right in front of Clarke, blankets in his arms. He had managed to persuade them to stay one more night, making a good case when he had brought up how the temperatures dropped at night around those parts and how Bellamy still wasn't in the greatest shape. The man had wanted to leave right then. He had walked away from Wells with an angry jerk of his head, indicating that he was going to wait for Clarke by the door, where he now stood, looking grumpy and withdrawn, holding his left arm close with his right.

Wells sighed. He knew he couldn't stop them, or make this better. He also knew that this guy was here to stay.

"Clarke, please," he muttered, "I know you're mad. I know you don't trust me. But one day isn't gonna make much of a difference."

"It's a whole lot of difference if they know where to look for us. I bet Maya already informed them that you told us and now they're on their way to capture us to save their stupid mission."

"They couldn't if they wanted to. They're still too far out."

"The outpost is not that far away," she reminded him, but he shook his head.

"There were never all that many people there - the few that were… they went on their way to their homebase as soon as we left." He looked at her with a sad smile. "The whole shed thing? All those horses? They were all part of the show. I'm sorry…"

Clarke's face radiated disappointment.

"Why?" she challenged in a sudden non-sequitur, eyes ablaze with a fire he hadn't seen in there for a very long time. It had probably died around the same time her dad had.

He sighed, thinking about his next words first, thinking about his true intentions. Had he been lying to himself?

"Because I wanted to give you an out."

"An out?" She looked at him, incredulous, but also confused. He nodded, an ache spreading inside of him that he had tried to shut out for the longest time. It had festered, though, over the years. It had gotten harder to keep it under control, keep it hidden from himself, from _her_.

"The bonds, they're… all encompassing. Intense. I haven't said it out loud before, I haven't even dared thinking it, but…"

Could he tell her? Should he? Yes, he decided, he should, because who else if not her. It wouldn't matter much anymore all too soon. He owed her honesty. She deserved so much more.

"I hate it."

She looked taken aback, but he went on. "I hate it with a passion. The lack of privacy, how every little thing in your mind, all those involuntary thoughts, can end up being transferred over to your partner. How they can read you inside out, know every last secret. I hate what it has done to my relationship with Maya," he scoffed, "we were so happy. She really was the one. I wanted to share everything with her, but when I finally had to, it wasn't all that great after all. Suddenly she knew about all my moments of self hatred, my true feelings about her stupid cat she had at the time we were first together." He noticed Clarke give an involuntary chuckle.

"I hated that cat too," she breathed. And for the briefest of moments, they smiled at each other, conspiratorially almost. Then her expression hardened again, and he continued with another sigh.

"She knew I had been putting on a show a couple of times, being romantic just for her sake; she was upset. Understandably so. And I hated that too. - Can you even imagine what it's like when the person you love knows about all the times you've doubted them? Or your feelings for them? For others? Even if you'd never act on them? I didn't want you to have to go through that. That day at the pond…" He paused briefly, seeing it again, the hard rain, Clarke's concentrated face.

 _Was this when it started? Or even before?_ Maya suddenly interjected, but he ignored her.

"I was suddenly worried for you in a way I hadn't ever before. Those bonds... There is no coming back from them, from this, Clarke, for any of us. Once you're there, once you're linked, you can only go forward. The change happening during tryouts, if it does happen, is irreversible." He paused, touching her cheek lightly. There was so much sadness in her face now.

"But then you ended up with that botched link," he continued, "and I suddenly had hope again. For you. If I could help you get all the information, all use out of your partner, maybe I could persuade our people to just lock him away somewhere, for good. You wouldn't have had to worry about anything. You could have just locked him out of your thoughts. You could have been free. Still alone in your head."

He felt like he spoke an entire soliloquy while Clarke patiently waited, staring at him. When he was finally finished, she still looked upset, but he could tell that there was also understanding.

It would have to suffice, he thought. That little bit of understanding. It was all he would get.

* * *

…

When Clarke woke up the next day, it was starting to dawn outside, and she forced herself to push the warm blankets aside and get up. She made her way over to the small bathroom one last time, wondering how long it would be before she would have amenities like that again. She hurried up, not wanting to lose any more precious time.

Once she was done, not quite happy with the outcome, because she felt like her clothes were starting to smell and there was nothing she could do about that, she walked over to where Bellamy still lay sleeping. She watched him for a moment, his face unusually peaceful, and she regretted having to disturb his sleep. But it was time.

"Bellamy," she whispered, lightly touching his arm, "We gotta go."

He looked up at her, startled, but instantly alert, and got up quickly, helping her get ready.

"You'll want these." Wells suddenly appeared from where she had just seen him still sleeping, and he was carrying a heap of the blankets, and a bag-pack. "There's some water in there. Some crackers. Not much, but better than nothing."

"What about you?" she asked, reluctantly taking the things from him, growing sad again. She didn't want to leave him behind. She was still mad at him, yes, but she had also already started to forgive him. He had done all this for her. He had messed up, but his intentions had been well-meaning.

"I'll be fine. Someone will come for me soon, anyways." He smirked at her. "Ready for reprogramming."

She grimaced. In Preparation, they had been told about that part as well. How, if things didn't work out, if a partner somehow got turned by the enemy or couldn't handle the bond, they would go through reprogramming to save the link relationship. It didn't happen very often, and it had become somewhat of a myth almost. But now, Wells would soon find out how much of it was true, how much of it really worked.

"This is goodbye then, Clarke. If we ever meet again, and I almost hope we won't, I'll be someone else. The updated Wells." He grinned, then suddenly leaned forward and hugged her, and she found herself leaning into him, clasping her arms around him for the longest shortest time, until he let go, and the moment was over.

"Be safe out there, Clarke."

"You too, Wells…"

Then she turned around, tears welling in her eyes, and she wiped across them with her arms before following Bellamy out to the horses.

She still couldn't believe they were doing this together, fleeing. Without Wells. Just she and that Silveren stranger. What were they even going to do? Where could they go in this wide world? Could she trust him? The enemy? The Eternal? Could he trust her? The Golden that had broken into his head?

Would they survive?

* * *

 _..._

 _Why_?

Wells licked his lips; unsure of what route to go with Maya.

 _Clarke is our friend. She deserved the truth._

Clarke and Bellamy had left, had said goodbye, and he was now sitting alone under the one blanket he had kept for himself, huddled up, just waiting. He stared at the rays of colored light that fell on the ground, looked over to the altar, where they had last sat together.

 _Wallace said you can still make it right. Follow their tracks, find them for us._

He sighed, eyes closed. They had left him earlier that morning, after another night spent all together under the roof of the old church. He could still see Clarke's face. She hadn't forgiven him. She had been so… disappointed. Wells hadn't felt that bad since he had destroyed his mother's old china set following a drunken binge as a teenager, the one time he had seen his dad in tears...

 _You_ should _feel bad now._ Maya had no sympathy.

 _I know._

 _You ruined everything, Wells. Do you seriously think they're better off knowing? They'll be hunted down now. I was trying to protect Clarke from that. But you…_

 _Were you?_ He asked, a rest of fight stirring in him. _Because, frankly, it seemed more like you were trying to get rid of her. Is it because of me? Because I like her?_

He could hear her scoff. He knew the face she was probably making, and he half smiled at the thought. _I love you more, Maya, I always have. You know that._

 _Really? Because it didn't feel like that the last few weeks._

 _Let's not fight. Please. I… I want to know whether there's a way for us to come back from this._

 _You could—_

 _One that doesn't involve them, Maya. They're gone, I don't know where to. I'm not gonna go after them. And if anyone does, I'll try my best to keep them safe._

 _Then there's nothing you can do. Stay alive, I guess. I don't want to die…_

He pressed his lips together. He didn't want to think. _How is this gonna work now? Will you tell them where to find me?_

 _I have to, Wells._

 _What will they do? Lock me up? Try to brainwash me?_

 _You know how it goes. They can't waste a perfectly functioning bond. But I'm sure your dad can work out something for you._

He nodded. He knew they had ways to deal with reluctant - faulty - bond-partners. He just never thought it could happen to him. He hoped his father's word could get him out of that fate, but he didn't count on it. His father was a part of command; and he was very loyal.

He sighed.

 _I do love you, Maya._

Maybe this would be the last time he could actively tell her that, the last time he was still himself.

 _I know. I love you, too. Even if I can't agree with what you did. I'm sorry, Wells._

 _I'm not…_


	9. Into the Neutral Zone

...

The world was wide open and covered in snow. Endless planes of white lay ahead of them, interspersed with looming forests so wide one could get lost in them for days. But it was sunny, and Clarke was still free. She took a deep breath, cherishing the crisp air in her lungs for a moment before exhaling a plume of condensation.

With a quick lithe movement, she mounted her horse, still the same dark creature she had ridden for weeks now, and bent over to gently whisper in the animal's ear.

"Go," she muttered, then held on tight to the reins as the horse trotted off, following Bellamy on his paler steed.

They didn't have much of a plan. Don't get caught. That was the extent of it. Bellamy had gotten rid of Wells's uniform jacket early on, because they couldn't risk anyone finding them in military clothes. Certainly not in the bright attire of the Golden army with its intricate rows of shiny golden buttons on either side that could be seen way too far when the sunlight caught it just right. They would have to find him another coat or jacket soon. It was still way too cold outside, especially for someone like him.

They would have to find Clarke some new clothes, too, something warmer. They also needed a place to stay for a few days, to recuperate, to come up with a way to better hide the glaring truth Bellamy's arm too easily revealed.

They would have to try their best to stay under the radar.

It wasn't going to be easy. They hardly knew each other; and Clarke was nervous about riding off into the unknown with him. He had been out there before, had seen how vast the world was. But she hadn't left the safety of the big cities behind their high stone walls for a long time before all this had happened. Her own time living in the Outskirts lay deep in the past. Even back then, she had lived close to the cities, had never made it far from them, definitely not into the Neutral Zone they were headed toward.

They would have to learn to trust each other on that journey.

She just hoped she wasn't going to regret her decision to go with him.

* * *

...

When they had ridden for a while, Clarke always staying close to Bellamy, she had gotten too tired of the quiet, of the uniform blankness of the world ahead of them. She sniffed, rubbing her too cold nose, and turned to look at him.

"I wonder what it was like out here before," she wondered out loud, stretching out an arm to indicate the low slopes of nothing, here and there broken up by a few spare signs of lives long vanished. So far out here, even the ruins of the Before had mostly broken down and crumpled away, not leaving much behind.

She shivered. After the Big Ones had been dropped ages ago, nature had reclaimed most of the continent, but in the thick of winter, it looked as barren again as she imagined it once did, right after the bombs must have devastated almost everything.

Bellamy frowned at her. "What do you mean?"

"Before the Last War..."

He gave her a blank stare and shrugged. He didn't seem to care much, and she couldn't fault him for that. She had to admit that she had been just like that, way back when she had first learned about history as a kid, in pre-Preparation.

...

She remembered yawning and making quiet jokes with Wells, about their stupid forefathers who had eradicated themselves while trying to win a war. Nobody even remembered what they had been fighting about, or what faction had started the bombing. It didn't even matter anymore.

Then her parents had gotten wind of her less than desirable attitude and she had gotten an angry lecture by her mom. Abby had been livid.

"Seriously, Clarke?! This is no laughing matter. Do you even know what was lost due to the Last War? Do you have _any_ idea?!"

Clarke had rolled her eyes, crossing her arms defensively in front of her. Her dad, quietly sitting beside his wife, had given her a stern look, but she had seen a flicker of conspiratorial mirth behind it. They had both been on the receiving end of one of Abby's lectures before and had known to just ride it out until she was done.

"Millions of lives, civilizations, cities, lots of knowledge, almost all technology," she had recited in a bored voice. She had felt the smallest pang when she had seen Abby's mouth turn into a thin pale line, the wrinkles in her face suddenly more visible, a tiredness appearing in her face that had been quite unusual.

"Yes," she had hissed, staring at her daughter darkly. "There's almost _nothing_ left."

"Didn't you say that was a good thing? Because if it wasnt for that, we'd still have the technology to make weapons like the Big Ones and then there'd really be nothing left? Because we would all probably just make the same mistakes again, Golden and Silveren alike?" Clarke had countered, a hint of triumph in her features.

But Abby had shaken her head sadly. "There used to be ways to cure certain types of cancer, Clarke. Machines equipped to keep the critically injured alive. We are back to living a life closer to what it was like thousands of years ago instead of more advanced. We should have been able to conquer and populate space, not die of radiation fallout down here." Abby had paused, probably realizing she wasn't quite getting through to her daughter, who had sat there, gnawing on a finger, hugging herself, just waiting to be released.

"Alright, mom. I promise I'll pay more attention from now on, okay? Can I go now?"

"You are our future, Clarke." Abby's eyes had begun to shimmer with tears and Clarke had suddenly felt awkward. Her father had laid a hand on his wife's arm, shaking his head briefly in their child's direction.

"Let's all have a break here," he had suggested, but Abby had spoken over him.

"Do you know why we gave up our posts in the army? Because we thought what command is doing is wrong. It's leading us back on a path we barely escaped before. They want back what they think is theirs, the western territories. But it's just not how humans work. The Silveren people happened to live there and you can't just decide they have no right to be somewhere just because they migrated there from somewhere else. But that's exactly what our commanders did. They started a war and now we all have to pay for it."

"Abby..."

"No, Jake, let me finish this. Clarke." Abby had suddenly grabbed her hand, looking at her with such fierce love and fire that her daughter had been slightly taken aback. "There's a reason why the Neutral Zone keeps growing. People don't support the war anymore. Hardly anyone still remembers what brought it about, but there are rumors about what keeps it going: just the hubris of a few people on either side. There are the wrong people in command, and General Wallace on our side and the Captain of the Silveren are easily the worst of them all. Your friend Wells... his father is one of the only reasons the Neutral Zone has been recognized to begin with. Your dad and I... we are trying to do our part and make sure it stays that way. Make sure there's still a chance for peace..."

...

"Clarke!"

She came out of her memory with a sudden feeling of awe and confusion. Abby's voice still echoing in her head, she looked around to see Bellamy staring at her with a concerned frown.

"You alright?" he asked and she tried to smile, though her face felt so frozen that her mouth didn't quite cooperate.

"Ya. Just... memories. My parents used to support the Neutral Zone. Somehow I had forgotten about that after..." She couldn't bring herself to continue. But she didn't have to say it out loud; thankfully he understood. With a nod, he turned around again, continuing to lead the way.

"Things used to be different out here. It hasn't gone so well in the last four or five years since both armies stopped recognizing the neutrality."

"How is it even still called the Neutral Zone then?"

Bellamy scoffed. "Because even the military can't change what some people believe in."

Some people... Clarke wondered how many there really were, people like them, who were on neither side. Even her own parents had not supported the war.

Maybe they weren't as alone as they thought.

* * *

…

* * *

...

It was getting dark quickly. The days were still short, and Clarke could see the sun swiftly descending behind some hills on the horizon. As if dusk cost too much effort, it turned from daylight to stark night in just a few short minutes. She bit down hard, her body aching from having sat on a horse for most of the day. The animals, too, were growing tired. They needed to find shelter, soon.

 _Bellamy_.

She reached out with her mind. Talking was too much effort, and she didn't want to make more noise than necessary, either. They couldn't know whether there wasn't someone hiding in the forests and bushes around them.

 _We need a break. The horses are done._

 _I know. There should be an old village coming up if I'm not mistaken._

She frowned in surprise. _So you've been in the area?_

 _I got captured right around these parts…_

She frowned at him; they had never spoken about this before _. Why were you here, anyways? So far up north?_

 _I can't say._

She scoffed into the blanket she had wrapped around herself. Really? Was he being serious?

 _Can't? Or won't?_

There was nothing for a long time. She felt his barriers harden, felt the steady flow of pain coming from his side dull down even more, and admittedly, it was a welcome relief.

 _Fine, keep it to yourself, then. But if that village doesn't show up in the next few minutes, I'll just flop down on the ground and stay here._

She saw him turn his head in her direction, meeting her pout with a smile on his half obscured face. "It's just over that hill."

"Famous last words," she mumbled, rolling her eyes, but trotted on regardless.

Thankfully, his memory really was quite accurate, and they soon found themselves facing a small accumulation of little houses, wooden shacks most of them, but some also larger buildings with hardened facades of brick or stone. A narrow road meandered through it, an actual road with patches of broken asphalt still visible here and there. The place looked deserted, but it must have once been a prospering settlement.

Bellamy stopped his horse and slowly got off. Clarke noticed just how slow his movements were and she couldn't help but wonder whether the cold had gotten to him, or whether it was something else.

"You alright?" she asked, and he stared at her, a bit too vacantly for her liking.

"I'm fine," he grumbled, staring at her out of guarded dark eyes. "There shouldn't be anyone here. Place has been fought over too much. Strategic position on top of the hills, close to the Neutral Zone..."

"Was that your assignment? Bringing it into the fold?"

He ignored her and made his way down the road, guiding his horse as he went. With a sigh, she followed him, the clop clop of her horse's hooves strangely foreboding. What if he was wrong? What if there were people still living there? Whose side would they be on? She shivered. The cold was getting to her, too. And she was hungry.

She was just about to protest, to threaten again to sit down right where she stood, when she spotted a small sign on one of the closer buildings, marking it as a department store. Jackpot, she thought. Hopefully, there would still be things to salvage in there.

She tapped Bellamy's arm, and he flinched so hard she startled. "I'm… sorry," she muttered, heat creeping into her cheeks as she realized she had touched his weapon-arm. He pulled back from her slightly, but tried to smile when she said, "I hurt you again."

He shook his head. "No, I just..."

She could feel that his barriers had weakened again because the pain behind them had increased. She gave him a pointed look and he averted his head, smile fading. She bit her lip, growing more concerned.

"Anyways," she forced herself to say, playing along and allowing him to gloss over the obvious. "There's a store. I'm thinking we should maybe just go in and check for supplies. Clothes…"

"We should find a place to stay first. We can go out later."

"You need a jacket. And I don't know about you, but I'm really smelly. Maybe we can clean up a little… There might also be some food left. Cans… crackers. You might not need sustenance, but me and the horses, we are hungry."

She raised her chin, then simply walked past him, in the direction of the building she had pointed out. She didn't look back, but she didn't need to. It only took a few minutes before she could hear an echo of more hooves on the ground, and she smiled to herself, relieved that he was following her.

...

The doors were still intact. The village couldn't have been deserted for all that long, she realized. The aisles inside looked almost pristine from where she peeked in through the windows, and she hoped it was a good sign. That they would find some treasures.

But first… She picked up a big rock and threw it through the glass doors, making Bellamy glare at her. "The hell was that for?!"

She shrugged. "We need to get in. It was locked. The doors are glass, so I-"

"There's easier ways. Less loud, too…"

She pressed her lips together, unhappy with his tone. He was lecturing her. He was in a mood. He was also right, but she didn't want to admit that...

Watching him shake his head, she was prepared for him to let his obvious anger out, but there was nothing. He remained ominously quiet.

When they finally tethered their horses outside, getting ready to go in, she couldn't stand the quiet anymore.

"Are you okay?" she asked as they began wading over the shards of glass and into the darkness of the store, but he wasn't answering.

"Bellamy?"

He had shaken off the blanket and was now stalking deeper down the aisles, and she tried it over their link.

 _Bellamy. Talk to me_...

Closing her eyes, she listened into herself, searched for him. But all she could feel was his pain and a muddled ocean of emotions, anger and annoyance prominent among them, but also more. With a strange whooshing sensation, she suddenly felt him mentally push her away, and she decided to just leave him be for a bit, let him brood and mellow out while she went to look for the clothes section. Concentrate on her own needs for a bit.

Maybe she could find some soap, deodorant, toothpaste, toiletries, too. And the restrooms.

She began perusing the aisles, delighted to find lots of things they could use and yes, that included shower gel and toilet paper, and a nice wardrobe full of new clothes.

...

It was at least an hour later when she finally found him again, sitting leaning against a shelf in the food section, and she did a little playful pirouette showing off her new outfit and, she hoped, her nicely cleaned up self. It was nothing special, of course, just a pair of tight black pants, a long dark undershirt and a wide woolen snowy looking sweater that would hopefully keep her warm enough. He did give her a lopsided smile, but that was all, no compliment, no cheeky remarks, nothing.

She laid some clothes down next to him, sitting down beside him. "Got some for you too. There's a nice warm jacket - and some really amazing woolen socks. I got a pair for myself." She pulled up the leg of her pants a little to show them off, and caught him glancing down briefly, without taking his head off the shelf it rested on.

With a sigh, she frowned at him, unbidden worry creeping into her. He was still so quiet, so... withdrawn.

"You're exhausted," she noted quietly, nudging him lightly. "Come on." Slowly, she stood back up, gently tugging at his arm - carefully choosing the right one this time. "Let's get you cleaned up too. There's a decent sized restroom over there. I got some water, too. Melted some snow." She winked as he stared up at her. "Will you need help?"

He gave her a look, licking his too dry, too pale lips as he did. But then he rolled his eyes and pushed himself up slowly. "I got it, princess, but thanks." He smirked, adding, "Unless this was meant as a subtle come on…"

It was her turn to roll her eyes, but she had to smile a little. She was glad there was still life in him.

She showed him the way, then gave him privacy, walking through the dresses section while she was waiting. She doubted she would ever need a dress again, with a life on the run, but that didn't mean she couldn't take a look. The thought made her heart heavy, though. The things she would have to give up. There was probably a lot that hadn't even occurred to her yet. And what for? Was she going to spend the rest of her life with Bellamy Blake of the Silveren? Never settling anywhere, never finding love again, never having kids, never… having peace of heart?

She closed her eyes, her fingers still tracing the little pearls sewn onto the fabric of one of the dresses. If only she could wear that, just once.

"We might have a problem."

Clarke was jolted out of her thoughts, opening her eyes to Bellamy standing further up the aisle, watching her. He was wearing the pants she had picked out for him, as dark as hers, and he had shaved again, had washed his hair.

And he wasn't wearing a shirt. She couldn't help but stare at his torso, muscles playing as he moved, and she caught herself staring awkwardly. She swallowed, suddenly very self-conscious. Quickly checking whether her barriers were still up, she forced herself to focus on his face.

"What?" Her tongue felt heavy in her mouth.

"I'm not just a body, you know," he joked, and she felt hot and embarrassed when she looked up to meet his gaze. Stupid bond, she cursed to herself. He had definitely picked up on the fact that her traitorous mind thought he looked hot.

He was smiling, though, if a bit wanly. Clarke made a face and closed her eyes.

"I wasn't… I," she stammered, giving up when she saw that his expression had already changed into a more regretful one.

"Just giving you a hard time, princess. I guess I'm just stupidly trying to deflect from..." He sighed, then held out his arm slightly to show her what he meant. She didn't know what she was looking at when she first saw it. Then her eyes widened. She touched her mouth, slowly walking over to him. He grimaced when she stretched her own arm out, her fingers moving to touch his.

The bandage was not in very good condition at all. She remembered it now, how she had made do with it before, wrapping it in a way that had stretched the material more than she would have liked so that she could wrap it around his entire lower arm. But that wasn't it.

There was a strange sheen poking through it, now, much brighter than when she had seen the shimmering scar before. It was almost like his arm was all ablaze now. And it was spreading to his upper arm.

She saw him unwind the material of the bandage a bit to let her see, an upset expression on his face that made her heart ache. She swiftly brought her hand up to his to gently still his movements and shook her head no. She heard his breath come out as a shudder when she touched him, and she held her hand there, over his, for a long moment, looking up into his eyes. She could read fear in them, dark and growing, and she half wished they would have been as shuttered as usual, because she didn't know what to do with these new emotions.

"What's happening?" she softly inquired as he finally pulled away, walking backward a few steps.

"It's… what happens when we're without a weapon for too long, without a proper bandage."

She raised her eyebrows, frowning. "Does this happen often? Can it get worse? Can we stop it if we get you a new bandage, or," she didn't even want to think it, "access to a weapon?"

"I'm not sure."

Her face fell. "You're not sure?"

"There haven't been many... cases. Mostly just old written accounts of this happening. And in those cases…" He trailed off, but she could see it in his face, read it in his mind, which was suddenly wide open. They had died. A horrible, painful death. Slow, gruesome. Lives full of too much pain, usually ended by suicide or mercy killing.

Clarke swallowed down a sob that wanted to break out of her.

Death. He had wanted to die before, when the pain had been so bad he couldn't really think anymore. Now he had her to think of, and suddenly death didn't seem like an option anymore.

"I'm sorry," he suddenly muttered, looking away.

She placed a hand on his chest, an impulse really, and suddenly, she was acutely aware of his half-nakedness again, of the red scar next to her outspread fingers. She worried her lip, flustered and confused, then forced herself to concentrate.

"It's not your fault," she whispered, "We'll find a way. Maybe we can find one of your people that knows more about this."

He shook his head. "Too dangerous. We need to keep you away from them."

She raised an eyebrow at him. "'Dangerous' is relative. I mean, it can't get much worse than me dying alongside you because you refused to get this treated, can it?" She smiled mildly, but regretted her words instantly when, to her dismay, she saw tears form in his eyes before he rather abruptly turned around to leave.

"Bellamy," she called out, throat constricting, and she quickly rushed after him, because she simply couldn't let him go like that. Not now, not anymore. "Bellamy; I'm sorry, I… we will find a way, okay? We will get through this, too."

Her hand grabbed his, stopping him, and he slowly turned to face her again, nodding halfheartedly.

She fell silent as she watched him standing before her, this stranger suddenly feeling so familiar, like a part of her, and when had that happened? And why so quickly?

When he eventually moved to put the shirt on he must have been holding this entire time, Clarke's gaze fell on the scars on his body, some old and faded, some still raw looking. Fresh. As if he felt her gaze hot on his skin, he paused his movements, staring at her warily. She noticed the mark right above his heart, the one she had almost touched earlier, and as if on autopilot extended an arm, a hand, a finger, grazing his skin softly. He was still just watching her, alert, cautious, then let his arms fall to the sides, the shirt forgotten in his hand.

"That was you," she realized, not sure whether he had somehow relayed that information or not. She shuddered when he took her hand in his, holding it there, against his chest, then looked up at him.

"We will find a way," she told him, suddenly determined. "We'll start with a bandage. I'm sure you'll know where to get a new one, right?" She looked at him, hopeful, and he nodded, though still so sad. His heart was beating faster now. So fast…

There was fear there, a panic, and... a want. She wasn't sure whose. Whether only hers, or his, too.

"I just don't know what this is," he breathed, "I'm…" _fucking scared,_ he continued in his mind, as if the admission was too personal or painful to say out loud. Too real. He looked down, his jaw clenching and unclenching, like he was fighting an internal battle. He wasn't looking at her at all, but Clarke was looking at him, mouth slightly open, and she gently cupped his chin, lifting herself up to her tiptoes.

Abruptly kissed him, following a sudden urge, retreating quickly, gasping when she realized what she had done. She was falling for him, wasn't she? She really was. It was jarring. The Golden was falling in love with the Silveren.

Clarke wiped her mouth, half shocked, but mostly just…

Before she could think her thought to the end, he suddenly pulled her closer, with a hand in her hair, and kissed her back, deep, long, passionate.

When he let go again, it was only to hoist her up and walk her deeper into the dimness of the store's clothes department. She had straddled him, her legs on either side of him, her mouth on his, her tongue dancing with his, and together, they managed to somehow sink onto the floor.

He was about to push himself up on both arms and over her, his lips already wandering down from her mouth to the crook of her neck and her clavicle, but in a moment of sudden clarity, she remembered his arm, or maybe she felt his pain, and she tugged at him till he locked gazes with her, halting his movements.

"Let me," she breathed, and she sat back up, pulling her pants down a little awkwardly as she went, then came to sit on his lap, naked and vulnerable, busying herself with his buttons as she began kissing him again.

Part of her still couldn't believe what she was doing, that she was doing it, while the other was already in the throes of it, taking him out and guiding him into where she was tingling and wanting, wet-hot from anticipation.

They didn't speak at all, they communicated only with their eyes, their minds. She could feel his desire, and it made her feel a thousand times better than the princess she had wished to be as a child. This... was arousing. This was what she wanted, what she needed. She needed _him_.

She fucked him, sitting up, carefully, slowly, grinding into him with the need and desire of a love starved woman, and he answered it in turn, pushing a hand in between where they met, touching her there, so softly at first that she shivered. As she picked up speed, so did he, and she felt herself come as his finger circled her, teasing, teasing, till she pushed her own hand down too, looking him straight in the eyes, back arched, and she placed his finger right on top of her, still watching him, the wonder in his eyes, the passion, pleasure, and then she came with a shudder as he touched her there, pressing down lightly, stroking, stroking...

She moaned deeply, throwing her head back till she felt her hair on her naked back, baring her breasts to him, her neck, and she could feel him come shortly after, burying his head against her chest as he did, and she loved the feeling of him pulsing deep inside of her, welcomed it, grinding into him once more to feel it all.

…

When they both finally collapsed, spent, and with a sheen of sweat covering their bodies, she came to lie right by his side, her forehead against his, closing her eyes. He wrapped an arm around her, and she quietly whispered, "We'll be okay."

She really wanted to believe it was true, but she had no way of knowing that.

Hearing him take a heaving breath, feeling his mind so full of fear and pain again, but also something else now, she wanted him, wanted _them_ to be okay.

Wiggling closer to him, not even caring that they were both still half undressed, she slowly wrapped her arms around him, too, and like that, they eventually fell asleep.


	10. Dogs

...

"Wells."

The voice sounded so close, yet he was far away, and unwilling to emerge.

"Wells."

...

They found him soon after Clarke and her partner had left on their trek into the unknown. He was sitting in one of the pews, munching on a bird he had managed to kill earlier that day, when they came. The chewing was tough and tedious, he was already so over this meat based diet that part of him was almost relieved when the door opened and he saw the soldiers coming for him. At least they wouldn't serve small game in whatever prison was waiting for him.

At some point before, he had briefly wondered whether he should try and run, too. But there was no place for him to hide, nothing to be gained. He wasn't free in his head anyways, fleeing wouldn't have changed that. So he had waited patiently.

...

"Come on, Wells."

The voice wasn't Maya. Slowly, he let his eyelids flutter open and blinked a couple of times until his vision cleared enough to see.

"Dad?"

The tall man in front of him, sitting on a small stool, smiled at him sadly.

"Son…"

Wells moved to get up, slowly, and they hugged each other, just a moment. It was so good to see his father, to feel his arms around him after so much time had passed. They hadn't seen each other much in the last few years, ever since Thelonious Jaha had been appointed commander, really. He was one of twenty, with every commander representing one of the Golden states, and his life had been too busy ever since. Making decisions for a whole people was never easy, but when you had a vastly different opinion than most of your fellow commanders, things were even harder.

Thelonious was one of the few higher ups who believed that the war was wrong and that there was another truth out there. Wells didn't know how many lives had been spared because of his father's veto against many a military operation, but it was a large number.

Wells looked at his dad, saw how much he had aged since the last time he had seen him, and he felt a pang at the realization. One day, his dad would be gone. Who would be the voice of reason then?

...

When his father had first become commander, Wells had urged him to keep his opinion quiet. He hadn't wanted him to get in trouble with the military, with the other commanders. He had been worried about his father's safety. But the man had refused. Of course.

Then, when the day of Wells's tryout came, and he got back from it with an established link, Thelonious had looked uncharacteristically upset, even for him.

"What's wrong, Dad?" Wells had frowned at the old man's sad expression.

"It's screwed up, son." Thelonious had grabbed him by the shoulders, staring him straight in the eyes. "I never wanted this for you. For anyone."

"What are you talking about?"

"This!" He had made a wide gesture, only confusing his son more. "It's sick. The bonds... What they make you do. You, Maya. And there's many more out there that don't have a choice but to be forced into a link. We should fight this, try to suppress it, instead of trying to actively bring it about."

"What do you mean, 'actively bring it about'? Either you have it in you, or not; Maya and I are thrilled that we do!" Wells had exclaimed, angry then with his father, but Thelonious had shaken his head sadly. He had known better.

"Neither of you had a choice in the matter. Having someone force their thoughts on you? And then being forced to join the military? Maya wanted to be a doctor, Wells, remember?"

"She can still become one! The military-"

"Exactly. The military," his dad had interjected, rolling his eyes and pressing his mouth together in frustration. "They control everything. People need doctors that are on neither side. Have you noticed how almost all the important positions these days get filled by people in the military? And almost every hospital, every administrative bureau has a link-partner working for them."

"Dad..."

They had both sighed. Thelonious had run a hand over his hair absently, then looked directly at his son.

"I'm not here to argue. I know you don't see it that way, Wells. And I'm just here to say goodbye."

"You're leaving." It hadn't been a question. He had always seen it coming.

"The people voted for me to become their commander. I intend to honor that, to do my best to make this war stop. I'll be leaving for the capital soon."

And he had. He had left and Wells had thought he would never see him again. Even back then he had already begun to doubt. His father's words had stirred something in him.

...

"Are you really here?" he was asking now, and both of them chuckled. It wasn't a very happy sound.

"I am."

"I guess that means I'm screwed."

"You really are, son, you really are."

"When?"

Thelonious sighed at hearing his son's question. He knew what his son meant, of course… The reprogramming, the reason he was here. So that he could see his child one last time before he might not recognize him anymore. He gave Wells a long look, his mouth working as he tried to make himself say it. "Tomorrow."

Wells's eyes flickered as he inhaled sharply. "They let you visit?"

His father smiled. "I _am_ part of command. And Maya contacted me..."

That was a surprise. _I still love you. Even if we don't agree anymore…_ she piped up somewhere in the back of his mind, and he sent her his heartfelt gratitude.

"So this is goodbye again then, huh?"

Thelonious nodded, and Wells felt his heart grow heavy, a lump in his throat.

"I'm proud of you, son."

"Proud?" Wells grinned incredulously.

"You stood up for Clarke. In the end, you chose the right side. That takes more guts than I ever had."

Wells's expression grew wistful. He shook his head. "No. You've always been the stronger one. Fighting for the right side since day one. I… had to slowly open my eyes and see… But you, you _knew._ I'm sorry this has to be goodbye, dad. I wish I could come with you, inform the masses about how screwed up both factions in the war really are. And how much beauty they're missing out on."

"I'll tell your story," Thelonious whispered, leaning in, his voice thick with unshed tears. He gave his son another hug. Then, louder, he said. "I have to go, son. I'm sorry."

Wells nodded, waving without enthusiasm. He tried hard to keep tears at bay. "I love you, dad."

"I love you, too. I always will, Wells."

"I'll probably come back as a heartless empty shell, though, standing only for the cause you're fighting so hard." Wells gave an upset chuckle that his father answered with a warm, if sad, smile.

"You'll always be my son. I know you'll still find it in you, the things you truly believe in. When it comes to it, you will know."

With that he left, leaving Wells alone, shackled by his feet to the bed he was laying on. Wells hoped his father was right, but he doubted it.

Tabula rasa. He would be a clean slate, a wild card. Would he really remember it deep down, what he had believed in? Friends above military? That the war was wrong? Probably not...

But at least his father would continue on.

At least Clarke was free.

There was still hope, the world would go on, even if it would have to be without Wells Jaha as he now was.

* * *

…

Clarke and Bellamy lay entangled on the floor. Cold had gradually crept into their bones, but they were still sleeping. Bellamy's body was starting to send out a warning, forcing him awake. But he fought the feeling, he was so exhausted. He wanted to escape the world out there for a little while longer. He wanted to feel Clarke against him for a few more minutes.

Then he saw the images again. Foreign, rough. Horrifying.

She was dreaming her dream again, her nightmare. He saw her younger self hiding again. Blood dripping from her hand where she had bitten herself. This time, he also saw them hit a woman that must have been her mom, over and over. She was laying on the ground, arms outstretched, begging for them to stop, but they went on until she was quiet.

By then they had already killed her husband, or rather, the Eternal had killed him, a garish happy grin on his face as he lashed at Clarke's dad not once, but multiple times, leaving a handful of gleaming oozing wounds on the man's body.

Bellamy knew all too well what that felt like. How every cut with the weapon sent an involuntary surge of endorphins, of serotonin through an Eternal's brain, making them the perfect killing machines. Because only when they hurt others, did their own pain leave completely, did they finally feel themselves again. The weapon came at a huge cost. It became part of its bearer.

Once they cut someone to turn them into an Eternal, the wound on their arm would stay open forever, part of the silvery metal staying inside of them, almost functioning like a magnet, fusing them to the blazing steel of the Eternal Weapon's long strong blade.

Some Eternals lived for the kill, loving every bit of it, like it was a sick game. The one in Clarke's dream - in her memory - was one of those, except, when Bellamy looked again, the man suddenly had his face, and as he looked on in horror, Clarke started screaming in the real world and he told her to _wake up!_

…

She came to, shaking and crying, and completely out of it. The dream…

"You're alright, Clarke. It was a nightmare…"

His voice was calm and low, and soothing. He had his arms around her; her head slowly came to rest on his chest and he was holding her there, just holding her, and despite the fact that she had just seen his face in her dream in such a gruesome distortion of the truth, she felt safe with him. Listening to his steady heartbeat, she was safe.

"It's over now…"

She was quietly sobbing. A hand against her mouth, she was suddenly self conscious and worried she would get spit all over him, but he didn't seem to notice or care. All she could feel was his firm hand against her head, and his strong heartbeat in her ear. Eventually, she was calm enough to slowly disentangle herself from him, and she got up to get dressed.

"I'm sorry," she muttered, wiping her eyes and trying to smile, but he still looked at her concerned when he pushed himself up on his arms, grimacing a little as he did. She looked at him, his face, his eyes, and suddenly she realized that he had seen it. Again. Her dream.

"I'm sorry, I didn't," she stammered, unsure of what to say or how best to word it. How did you explain your dreams to someone? This was exactly what she had never wanted to have to do. What she had feared. "I don't actually see you like… that. It's… a memory, actually. The Eternal…"

"I know," he allowed as her own voice trailed off. She watched him stand up slowly, noticed that he was shivering in the relative cold, and she realized that she, too, was cold now that she wasn't lying pressed against him anymore.

Bodyheat really was a great way to keep warm…

With jittery movements, she started looking for the rest of his and her clothes, and shily handed him his shirt when she found it by her things. He gave her a blank look that made her feel like she had to explain.

"You're cold."

He rolled his eyes at her and smirked briefly, awkwardly, before taking the shirt and putting it on quickly. She stared at his arms as he did, the muscles working with his movements, the sheen on his left side, and she shook her head to make herself stop before he noticed.

But she was too late. As his gaze met hers, she saw him retreat internally. It was a flicker in his eyes, a darkness, before he looked away, and she felt the need to take his hand, touch his cheek.

"Look at me," she said. "Please."

When he did, she smiled up at him warmly, a foreign boldness taking over as she told him, "I don't see you like that."

"It's what I am, Clarke. I'm sorry my people did that to your parents, to you. I'm so sorry for what you had to endure because of someone like me. How could you ever _not_ see that when looking at me. I'll be your constant reminder."

"Stop!" she said a little too harshly and he pulled away yet again, grimacing. Softer, she added, "Please." Geez, she smiled to herself, he really was incredibly sensitive. That was certainly new to her. "I don't need a constant reminder. It's all in here already," she tapped her temple, seeing him clench his jaw as she did. "You have shown me that the Silveren are people, too. You've reminded me of _that_. It's only been a few weeks, but when we first… connected, I thought this was the worst that could have happened. I thought my life was completely over. But then… I don't know, you slowly stole your way into my heart…"

She bit her lip, worried that she might regret having been so open about it. She wasn't even sure why she had told him all that point blank. She barely knew him. He was still a stranger, still an enemy soldier. But her heart had made a decision for her and there was no going back.

She heard him breathe, saw brightness in his eyes again, though it was probably just a trick of the light.

"I think I may be falling in love with you, Clarke," he quietly rasped, his hand in her hair now, playing with a strand before swiping it to the side. She took another step toward him, holding onto his chest, pulling herself up to her tiptoes, and kissed his cold lips. She pushed herself against him, wanted to feel him once more, and all words, all thoughts were put on hold once more as she fumbled with his pants, wanting more, wanting him, when suddenly, they heard a loud clatter and they stopped what they were doing, alert and wary, listening into the quiet of the tall building. She stared at him, wide eyed and worried, as he gave her a sign to stay put, making his way toward the other end of their aisle, poking his head out briefly, then hiding pressed against the shelf, motioning for her to stay completely still.

Clarke's heart was beating too fast, she felt a panic approach. After all these years, she still had trouble dealing with situations that seemed even the slightest bit too similar to the day her dad had died, too unpredictable, too scary. She was breathing too fast. She couldn't think anymore. Were the troops that had surely been sent out to capture them already here? Had they really caught them this quickly? What would happen next?

She kept her eyes trained on Bellamy, who was holding her gaze as if trying to calm her over the distance. _Wild dogs_ , he informed her, surprising her with that strange information, _a pack of them. - I freaking hate those beasts._

She watched as he crept back toward her, inch by inch, almost in slow motion, while she tried to get her breathing under control. Dogs… she had heard about that. How places got deserted because of the war - just like this one - and how the pets were left behind; how some of them formed packs, growing wild again, sometimes, when food was scarce, desperate and rabid. Dangerous.

But at least no people. They hadn't been found by either faction.

Bellamy got back to her finally, putting an arm in front of her as she tried to move. He put a finger to his lips, motioning for her to stay quiet. He frowned at her.

 _You okay?_

 _I thought they found us. Gave me a scare._

 _These beasts are not much better. They're a freaking pest. Honestly, I'd have preferred people._

She raised an eyebrow at his words, her rate of breathing involuntarily picking up again. If he was freaked out, so was she. Clarke closed her eyes.

 _Didn't mean to worry you. We'll take care of them._ He gave her a concerned look, then gently touched her cheek when she wouldn't look at him.

She forced herself to return the gaze and knew she was an open book, that he could see right through to her core. She was not meant for a life on the run, she was not meant for escaping and hiding from soldiers and wild animals. She had no formal training of any kind. Unless you counted basic nurse training that she had only half heartedly gotten into because of her mom persuading her it would be a decent job to have.

 _You're stronger than you think, Clarke. Formal training isn't everything. You have fight in you._

She wasn't sure she wanted to hear that.

 _I don't want to have fight in me._

 _Having that can be a good thing..._

She glared at him, unconvinced. Bellamy sighed.

 _Okay, you stay here. I'll try to get them to leave. They've already picked up our scent. I'll lead them away from here. I'll be right back._

He gave her one last imploring look, waiting until she had nodded at him, then he broke into a sprint and was out of her sight before she could even think another coherent thought. She tried to blend into her surroundings, holding onto the shelf behind her for support, and waited with bated breath for any noise, any sign of him.

At first, there was only the sound of his steps and a low growling. Sniffing. She felt her heart in her throat when the animal noises grew nearer. The panic was coming back. What if they found her before Bellamy got to them. What was he even going to do? What if the dogs bit them, tore them apart? She closed her eyes, controlled her breathing. She forced herself to shake off her vivid imagination. Suddenly, she saw the head of one of the dogs poke around the corner and it stared straight at her, amber eyes gleaming dangerously. He growled, showing long teeth, then he started running abruptly.

…

Clarke wasn't entirely sure what happened next. It all went so fast. The beast was on her in seconds. Her hands grappled for something to fight it off with, but there wasn't much there, just a few cans that she tried to throw at the creature in an attempt to ward it off. But soon, she was face to face with its snout, yellowed teeth just inches from her cheek, dank breath making her nauseous. In a last effort, she managed to shove a can right between its teeth, then ducked away as the angry animal tried to spit the offending object back out.

She quickly scrambled away, stumbling and falling as she went, when she saw Bellamy coming out of nowhere to her aid. He was yelling, an angry, feral noise, as he was racing toward them, the dog and her, and the animal finally turned its attention to him, away from her.

His mates soon followed, suddenly appearing from everywhere. Clarke heard - or felt - Bellamy say something, but she couldn't comprehend a word. Everything was whirling around her. The dogs, Bellamy, her thoughts. She was watching as if she wasn't involved, as if this was a movie and not her life.

Bellamy was holding something in his hands, shiny, like a pipe, and he was fighting the dogs off with lithe movements, whirling around as he did. For a moment, Clarke stood lost in time and just stared in a mixture of fascination and horror. She realized with sudden clarity that until that moment, she hadn't ever seen Bellamy fight, hadn't seen him be what he was: a soldier, a formidable one, even without his Eternal Weapon.

Then, finally, it all was over, the tumult abruptly died down, the last dogs fleeing, and except for Clarke's and Bellamy's labored breathing and a dying dog's yowling whelps, the building returned to its previous quietness, almost eerily so.

Clarke shot a glance in his direction. They were both leaning against the shelf, Bellamy right next to her, still holding a large pipe from a clothing rack he had just used to scare the dogs away from her, to beat them with, to kill them. The unlucky ones lay in the aisle with them, dead and broken, and she shot a glance at them, too, almost feeling sorry for them for a moment.

"You okay?" He was staring at her, eyes wide, a strange worry in his features, and she nodded slowly. "Guess I should apologize. Didn't quite go as I had hoped," he admitted, "They got way too close to you. I really need to step up my game." He looked at her, a sad frown appearing on his face. "It's not the dogs you're still scared off, is it?"

She bit the inside of her cheek, swallowing before she was able to try and answer. She didn't want to hurt him, but yes, he had scared her. His movements, his force. He had resembled the Eternal in her nightmares, in her darkest memories so much.

He smiled a small smile, then slowly got to his feet, rubbing his face as he did. "I'm sorry. For everything. I'll… give you some space."

He looked so lost that it pained her.

"No, that's not it," she quickly blurted, forcing herself off the shelf. She walked up to him before he could go anywhere, and as he saw her approach, he inclined his head warily, gauging her.

 _I can feel it, you know?_ He smiled sadly as she hung her head.

 _That's not fair._

 _Maybe not. But it is how it is…_

He turned to leave when she did something she hadn't done in a while. She extended her mind power and attacked his barriers, making him flinch away as she did.

 _Don't_ , he said, _why_ …

But she didn't want to hurt him, she just wanted him to _see_. To know.

 _You're not him. I know that. You're still an Eternal. And yes, I can't help it, that does scare me. It terrifies me. But what terrifies me more was the sudden panic I felt at the thought of losing you_.

They looked at each other, lost in each other for a while. Clarke felt her heart beat too fluttery in her chest. Then Bellamy spoke, and the strange tension resolved.

"To a pack of rabid dogs to boot. How rather unpoetic," he stated drily, rolling his eyes at himself, and she had to chuckle.

"Well, yeah. Would have totally been no problem for me if it had been something a little more grandiose," she joked and was glad when that got a laugh out of him. Quickly, her smile grew a little more wistful. "We'll be okay, won't we?" she whispered, and he gave her a small smile and a half sideways hug.

"I hope so, princess."

He leaned in and briefly kissed her forehead before making his way over to the restroom area to pick some of their newfound things up.

"Let's get our stuff together," he said over his shoulder, "and find somewhere else to stay…"

She nodded, then, with a sigh, followed him. She could use a change of scenery.


	11. Pain

...

They packed a good few bags full of stuff they could use - and a few things that weren't strictly necessary. They knew they could always come back to the store. They had even tried to block the doors again so that no more wild animals would be attracted and ransacked the building.

Bags strapped to their horses, they made their way through the deserted town. Bellamy silently warned Clarke to keep both eyes open, as towns like that were often a breeding ground for obscure characters, outcasts of society from both sides, some of them horribly deformed, and criminals. Clarke marveled at just how different the world was out there these days, outside of the immediate premises of the military-controlled big cities.

After her father - and her grandparents - had been brutally killed, she and her mom had left their home in the Outskirts with the intention of never coming back. Clarke's love for the place where she had grown up had been tainted by the terrible slaughter of her family, and she had sworn she would stay away from it forever, living out the rest of her days in the cities, seeking a better job than what she could have ever found back home.

But that was all in the past now. Her mom had left her with Wells and his parents, presumably using her last strength to leave and die far away from Clarke, sparing her daughter having to watch the gruesomeness of death due to a broken bond. She had wanted her child to think of better times. Clarke remembered her mother alive and with a sad smile on her battered looking face, so maybe Abby's plan had worked. Still, the memory hurt.

Clarke's life since then had changed profoundly. With no one left to hound her about it, she hadn't been back to nursing school in forever, and she certainly didn't have a home anymore. Anywhere. She exhaled, watching yet another cloud of condensed breath rise up into the cold air. She was standing in front of a small house, much smaller than most of the others they had seen in this town.

Holding the reins of both horses, she was waiting for Bellamy, who had walked into the small building to inspect every nook and cranny, making sure the place was safe and not already occupied. Its windows had been barred, its doors locked, and it had taken them some effort to even break inside, which Bellamy had taken to be a good sign. Clarke was still a bit upset that he had been so unwilling to even check out any of the fancier homes, but his reasoning had been that the small ones were way more off the radar of any ransackers and thus safer. He had a point, of course, and therefore she hadn't fought. Still, his pragmatism annoyed her.

"Alright. I think we found ourselves a place to stay." Bellamy was finally emerging back out of the front door, walking down the few stairs to meet her.

"Yay…?" she made, giving him a half smile, and he grinned back at her.

"Your attempt at 'excitement' could use some work."

Clarke rolled her eyes at him, but her smile widened anyway.

"Wanna know the best part?" He gave her a triumphant smile. "There's still some fodder for the horses in the adjacent shed. Let's get these guys settled in and then we'll see whether we can't get the stove working in there to finally get this gosh darn place a little warmer."

He gave a sigh that sounded more weary than he probably knew, and Clarke felt bad for him again. What was someone like him doing out here, where it got cold even for the Golden. She shook her head, contemplating asking him right then, but she decided it best to wait a little while longer.

* * *

...

When they had taken care of the horses and were finally both sitting cross-legged in front of the oven, eating a can of beans and some crackers, Clarke found herself taking him in again.

His face looked awfully drawn, if just as handsome, and in a way it was still boggling to know just how little he looked like the stereotypes she had been confronted with as a kid. Propaganda, of course, she had known that even back then. Her parents had made sure she saw through the lies, that she knew that people were people, that even the enemy had children, had feelings, hopes and dreams, and fears.

No one had told her the Silveren could be such handsome people, however. The ones that she had seen on that horrible day hadn't been handsome at all. They had been rough looking, unkempt, and wild. But now… She had to wonder whether it had just been a trick of her mind, her memory getting shaped by the terror of the events. She forced herself to stop right there; she didn't want to bring up those memories again.

"Do you think we Golden are ugly?" she suddenly blurted, closing her eyes for just a second in horror when she realized what she had just asked. "I mean… you know, because we are your enemy. I'm sure there's propaganda out there to make us look like the bad guys, and I was wondering… whether it paints us in an unattractive light as well, or whether you might actually think we look… strange?" It wasn't getting better the more she spoke. In the end, she just bit her lip and fell silent, concentrating hard on her beans.

He gave her a curious look. From under her lashes she could still see him watch her, stare at her with a frown.

"I think _you_ are beautiful," he eventually muttered, finally looking elsewhere, and she was strangely relieved and acutely aware that he had singled her out.

"I'm flattered," she said, honestly, but also jokingly, "that doesn't exactly answer my question, though."

He gave a sigh. There was too much weariness in there again, and a frown began to form on her face when he replied.

"No, I do not think the Golden are ugly. I do not think they - you - are the bad guys in this war, and I don't think any of it matters."

He ended rather abruptly and stood up to leave the room, leaving her to wonder what she could have done wrong. She should have probably just kept her stupid mouth shut. She tried reaching out through their link, unsure whether she should follow him, but he had warded off his mind even more than usual and other than the constant pulsing pain that was always too strong to completely hide from her, she felt nothing.

Maybe she should just give him some time. He was tired and exhausted after all, even more so than she was, because of his ordeal as a prisoner. The fight against the dogs had surely not helped matters, either.

Pressing her mouth together, Clarke sent out an, _I'm sorry if I said something wrong_ , then she proceeded to clean up the little kitchen before she went to try and find herself a place to sleep. She wasn't sure she could or should still try to share the bed with him like they had agreed to earlier.

Somehow she had messed things up, and it gave her a pang. There was so little good in her life right now, and their relationship - whatever that even really was - was still so fragile, nothing she could put a finger on, and she had managed to botch it. Like she had botched the bonding, or nurse training, or her stupid other relationships. There had always been something. And not just there. Her friendships: ended. Even the one with Wells, and Maya.

She hadn't even been able to be a good daughter. Fighting with her parents over how they seemingly wasted their perfectly good bond by having left the military for a farming life in the Outskirts, sticking up for a Neutral Zone that didn't give them anything, and "forcing" her to go down the same route. Clarke grimaced at the memory. It had been only days before…

No. She couldn't go there.

She hurriedly cleaned up the rest of their stuff, closing the oven, too, already missing its comforting heat, then she walked out into the darkness of the rest of the house.

* * *

...

Bellamy was sitting leaning against the wall by the front door. He had shoved his jacket against where the crack had let in gusts of icy wind from outside and he was now freezing in his too thin shirt. But he was too tired to get up, too tired to care. The cold wasn't worse than the pain, anyways.

His eyes were closed as he battled with unwelcome thoughts and feelings. The stupid war, the things he had had to do. Octavia, his sister... He hadn't seen her in so long, didn't even know whether she was still alive. He didn't know what he would do if he never got to see her again. She had stormed out after a last fight with him; he hadn't had a chance to make things up with her. Grimacing to himself, he used the pain to wash those thoughts away. At least it was good for something. If rarely.

"Bellamy? Are you alright?"

He looked up, startled, wondering where she had come from: Clarke... He didn't quite know what to make of her - of them - yet either.

Had he passed out for a bit there after all? She was sitting hunched in front of him, worry obvious in her features, and it was jarring to see someone look at him like that, someone like her to boot, with actual real concern. If he hadn't leaned against a wall, with nothing and no one behind him, he wouldn't even have entertained the thought that the worry was directed at him.

"Fine," he breathed, annoyed that even speaking was exhausting, and he made a face, gazing at her.

She had the most beautiful eyes. Brilliant blue, with a halo of light around them, unlike anything he had ever seen. Long lashes framed them; and he loved it when she blinked and looked at something just through them, as if she could hide under there, in a space only for her.

"You don't look fine."

"And here I thought I was a semi decent looking guy." He chuckled briefly and enjoyed seeing her flush even in the darkness of the room. "Which makes me sound rather arrogant," he then conceded, "Which probably goes with whatever prejudices regarding the Silveren you've grown up with."

She scoffed. For a second he was sure she would just leave him sitting there - as she should. But she surprised him by placing a soft hand on his cheek, then, frown deepening, on his forehead.

"You are _fine_ ," she allowed with a smile, but he could tell that she wasn't feeling particularly happy. "But you have a fever," she said, "which also makes you 'not fine.'"

He raised his eyebrows briefly, then muttered, "I guess there's no denying that. I probably just need some sleep…"

What he didn't tell her was that one of the stupid dogs had bitten him earlier, right in his freaking weapon-arm, tearing the bandage even more, and it had begun to feel like his whole arm was on fire. He really did have some atrocious luck lately. He clenched his jaw against the pain, knowing that she could see right through him again.

He took a few shallow breaths, in and out, trying to deepen them, but only making it worse. He stared at her, defeated. She would find out soon enough. There was no hiding this from her forever. It cost him too much energy to keep the pain from spilling over as it was. Soon it would be entering the space he shared with her, washing over him completely, like it had done before, when he had still been a prisoner of war, when he had wished he could just die.

But he couldn't die. Not anymore. Not when her life depended on his.

"Bellamy..."

"It hurts," he breathed, face falling with the admittance.

"Your arm?"

He could only stare at her as words began to evade him. Then he averted his gaze, although her face was the only solace he still had. He couldn't let her see. He couldn't let the pain destroy her, too. But it was getting too hard. He tried lifting his arm, to show her, but even that was too much effort, and he made a clipped sound somewhere in the back of his throat at the sensation blazing through him as bright as the freaking scar on his arm.

Clarke scrutinized him, gently, very softly taking his arm in her hands. She was asking something, but he couldn't quite follow. Couldn't look at her.

"Bellamy..."

"Sorry." He licked his lips, tried to shift his position. "I'm sorry. I can't…"

The pain suddenly got so terrible, so grating, it was obliterating him. Abruptly, he banged the side of his head hard against the wall, shocking Clarke, scaring her, and a stifled moan or yell or sob escaped him as he let himself fall forward and into her arms, where she caught him.

 _Why didn't you tell me?_ she asked softly, sadly, as she was holding him, swaying them both back and forth.

His reply was just a jumbled mess of thoughts and feelings, no words, no shot at conversation. But she seemed to understand him anyway, seemed to read him as if they really were just one mind. She could see just how scared he was. How in pain. How lost. How alone in this forever.

But when she gently told him _You're not alone. You have me now. You are not alone anymore,_ he slowly felt his pain become the smallest smidgen more bearable, slowly, bit by bit, as she opened her mind wider, allowing it in.


	12. Shacked up

...

She sat with him the entire night, holding him, sharing the pain. It was awful, it was comforting, painful, and full of compassion, all at the same time. It all felt so natural as if they had always been connected like that. Beyond the pain, she could see deep inside his mind. Like a vast stream images raced by, feelings, nothing to grasp completely, but enough to give her an idea. Enough to understand.

Enough to... feel as he felt, see as he saw. Enough to share her own mind, too. To open up so he could see, and escape his agony.

Clarke realized then that their bond was deepening. Evolving. That it was more now than a barely managed connection, more than a botched link.

And she was falling for this Silveren, this Eternal. Falling in love...

* * *

...

When the first morning light peeked in through the cracks of the wooden planks, Clarke had barely gotten any sleep. But when she looked down and saw that Bellamy was still sleeping, she had to smile, relieved. He had needed it, desperately.

She inhaled deeply, shifting her weight as best as she could, her body sore and tired and in need of a change of position. But she regretted it instantly when Bellamy blinked at her, already waking up, too. He looked at her, confused and a little displaced for a moment, but she could see the memory return and cloud his eyes.

"Good morning," she said with a smile as he abruptly tried to push himself up. She placed a hand on his chest, gently but firmly, shaking her head. "Easy now."

"I'm sorry." His voice was dark and raspy from sleep. "For last night. I…"

"You don't need to apologize. For anything."

He clenched his jaw. She could see, if not hear, him think. He was trying to rebuild his walls, she could feel the pain ease up on her side and it was a relief. Still, she shook her head once more.

"Don't. Not yet. I can take it a little longer. You need the extra time."

"You are too good to be true. You deal with me. You share… _this."_ With a grimace, he lifted his left arm ever so slightly. "Can I at least say thank you?"

She smiled, nodding. "Nothing wrong with that," she allowed, "though it's also not necessary."

His face finally showed the smallest of smiles, just a slight curl at the corners of his mouth, but it made her feel warm inside nonetheless.

"Maybe you're not real after all," he muttered, now finally sitting up, touching her face, tracing her mouth with his thumb.

"I'm a Golden. The enemy," she reminded him. "So, I'm not exactly a perfect match for a Silveren. If I wasn't real, don't you think your mind would have left out that strange little detail? Made me a cute little Silveren girl instead?"

"You don't know my mind all that well, princess." He smiled, but the expression didn't last. "Well, aside from the pain..."

She sniffed, rubbing her nose in a shy gesture. It was time for the inevitable. "Speaking of… I didn't want to disturb you last night, but… we really need to check your arm."

He rolled his eyes, pressing his lips together. It was obvious that he would have rather continued ignoring it, but she wasn't going to let him.

"Come on," she cajoled, helping him up slowly. With a hanging head, he reluctantly followed her into the tiny bathroom situated at the end of the small hallway. She made him sit down on the toilet, and carefully rolled his sleeve back. She looked up into his face and noticed that he seemed lost in thought. She couldn't help but watch him for a few more seconds, before she forced herself to gain his attention by calling out to him. "Alright. Let's take a look. I'll have to take the bandage off..."

He made a face but nodded anyways.

"Let's get it over with, doc."

She snorted, but didn't say anything, just went about her work.

She carefully unraveled the torn fabric, marveling to herself how this was possible. How her feelings for him had just blindsided her, coming out of nowhere. Now she was sitting here, taking care of a Silveren Eternal.

She thought of Wells then, too, and her heart skipped a beat. He was still there, in her heart, in her thoughts. What had gone so horribly wrong between them? Maybe in a different time, a different universe, they could have had a shot at happiness together, could have at least stayed friends. But _this_ was their universe, their world, and that chance had passed without them being able to grasp it, if it had ever been there to begin with.

Now it all actually seemed to have been for the better: the bonding, Wells's betrayal of sorts. Because Clarke _was_ happy. For the first time in forever she was happy.

"That bad, huh?"

She was jolted out of her musings when she heard his voice.

"Well, it's... not pretty."

They both chuckled a little awkwardly before turning serious again. Clarke swallowed, then continued with her work. She had brought over some alcohol, some clean cloth and water and did her best to try and clean the wound and salvage what she could of the bandage. He held his breath when she took it off, and just sat there, waiting quietly and patiently as she washed it thoroughly, then patted it dry with a towel. It was almost like a normal piece of cloth, a normal bandage, except it was slightly thicker, with a sheen so unnatural that it confused her. How were they even made?

"We'll have to hang it up to dry," she informed Bellamy, focusing back on her task at hand, feeling bad as she did, because she knew what that entailed: more pain. But he was a trooper and simply nodded resignedly, letting her get on with patching him up and putting a normal bandage around his arm in the meantime.

Thankfully, the dog hadn't done too much actual damage, but it had still penetrated the skin and the marks were weirdly gleaming just like the rest of Bellamy's arm. She looked at him sympathetically.

"Done for now," she announced.

"Thanks. Just don't expect me to be of much help with anything today," he said with a lopsided unhappy grin, and following an impulse, she kissed his forehead and hugged him briefly.

"I'll take on some of it again, if you let me."

Their gazes locked, hers firm, his pained. She could tell that he wanted to say no, didn't want her to go through that again, so she put a finger over his mouth to stop him. _Let me…_

And he nodded almost imperceptibly, then let his head drop against her, letting her hold him close.

* * *

...

They didn't do much that day. Stayed inside, huddled together on the couch, holding each other like two people that only had each other in a too cold and barren world.

Every so often, Clarke half forced Bellamy to have at least a few small bites.

"You need to keep up your strength," she told him, and he grimaced in reply but took the bread she offered and bit into it halfheartedly, staring at her.

"Happy now?" he asked grumpily, and she gave a nod and smiled.

They tried to sleep as much as possible, and waited. Clarke kept checking on the bandage and when it was finally dry, after another long and grating night, she did her best to quickly wrap it around his arm, worrying her lips as she did.

The bandage was torn badly, she had to use some tricks to make it work at all. But even then, it was still too short. The blazing sheen had crept up Bellamy's arm yet another inch or so, and they exchanged a glance when they noticed it, a sinking feeling making Clarke swallow hard. Bellamy looked at her apologetically.

"I guess I'll just have to get on this task, get myself a new bandage." He made a face. "I'll go by myself. It'll—"

"No," she interrupted him. "You're not getting rid of me so easily.

He smiled at her mildy. "I'm not trying to…"

"Well then. We are doing this together."

"We'll have to ride into Silveren territory…"

She looked at him challengingly. "So?"

His smile only widened. "You're a tough cookie, Clarke. But. You're also a Golden, and I'm not sure I can protect you when it comes to it."

"I guess I'll just have to watch out for myself then," she stated, adding, "didn't you say I had fight in me? Time to see how true that is." She smiled as she said it, and he pulled her in for a hug, where she breathed in his scent for a moment.

No. She wouldn't let him go alone. She wouldn't stay behind. They were in this together now. They were one.

* * *

…

They allowed each other a few more days. Just enough for Bellamy's wounds to finally heal a little better, for Clarke to rest, for them both to bond and pretend the world was a better place. Without war; a world where they shared a home together, filled with happy sounds and music and reading.

For almost a week they lived in a happy bubble, reluctant to ever leave. But they knew they would have to go eventually, knew it was time, so they packed up and got ready to leave.

Once morning came, they would set out into the unknown again.

Before then, however, they wanted to enjoy one last peaceful night. Clarke was in the kitchen, trying to make them something out of the few cans and boxes they had left, when Bellamy tossed her a bag, nodding at it. "Do me a favor, princess? Would you wear this for me?"

She frowned at him with a suspicious smile before she opened the bag slowly, fingers stiff and clumsy. She gasped when she saw what was in it: the little black dress she had seen at the store that very first day. The one she had dreamed of wearing, knowing full well she would never need dresses like that again. She would never be dancing or going to fancy dinners.

"What…" He must have seen her, she realized, must have seen her touch the dress too longingly. He was perceptive, that much was sure, and she smiled.

He smiled back at her knowingly. "Just… try it on, will you?"

She gave him an incredulous look. "Right, because this is totally an occasion for this kind of outfit."

Smiling, he nodded. "Of course it is. We were enemies. We survived a week together in this freaking shack. I call that a reason to celebrate in style."

She chuckled lightly. "Oh, in style, huh? Well, I better get on this then," she said then walked over to the bedroom, winking at him briefly before closing the door. Why she even agreed to this, she didn't know.

When she was alone she took a deep breath, sitting down on the bed for a moment, lightly following the seams of the dress, touching its intricate details, feeling its soft fabric. It was prettier than anything she had ever owned, or worn.

What if it didn't fit, if she looked ridiculous? She scoffed at the idiocy of that thought. It didn't really matter, did it? It was just for fun anyway. She would put it on. They would both get a good laugh out of it, then she would take it back off.

Taking her time, she undressed, then took the dress and slipped it on, surprised to find that it fit her pretty decently. Suddenly, she felt stupid, but braced herself and opened the door anyways.

...

A gasp escaped her at what she saw. She hadn't expected any of it: a few candles burning. An assortment of food on the table. Bellamy wearing a nice high collared button down shirt and slacks. Smiling briefly as she walked closer, his expression soon changed into something more… desiring.

She tilted her head, smiling, a slight heat creeping into her. Swallowing, she forced herself to speak.

"You planned all this?"

He shrugged. "It's all this town would give me," he said, finally standing up to meet her. "You are gorgeous," he breathed, and the look he gave her made her cheeks flush even more. "May I have this dance?"

Clarke chuckled, amused. "Didn't know you were such a romantic... We don't even have any music. Unless you plan on singing and dancing simultaneously…"

He shook his head. "We don't need music." He wasn't smiling anymore, and she could feel all his desire in addition to her own. It was a little overwhelming. And a little hot.

Suddenly shy, she stared up quietly as he took her hand and walked her over to the middle of the living room, where there was enough space to dance. She felt stupid and ridiculous. What were they doing here? Playing a happy couple? Ignoring the glaring truth? She was still a Golden and he a Silveren soldier. He was an Eternal, and she a would-be-future-nurse. They had nothing in common. Their people were at war with each other. Days ago they hadn't known each other, and when they first met, they had hated each other. He had even accused of mind-raping her.

And now here they were, getting ready to dance? Of all things...

But he was so sure of himself, so sure of _this_ , that she couldn't not give it a try.

And as they waltzed across the room, very slowly, very intimately, she leaned her head against him, listening to his heart beat, losing herself in the moment, and she wanted it to last forever.

…

They ended their dance with a kiss, a chaste kind of kiss, lips barely touching. Gentle and soft.

But soon after, Clarke found herself almost hurling herself at Bellamy, her mouth opening wide, her tongue foraging, finding his, continuing the waltz, turning it into a tango. Because she needed this. To be close to him, to make sense of their bond, of those confusing feelings in her head that she wasn't sure were only hers.

She needed this, needed him.

Looking up, she saw Bellamy lick his lips as he took her in, just watching her, and her body began to tingle.

"I want this to last forever," he muttered, stroking her hair absently.

The tingling feeling grew.

"Me too."


	13. Captain's son

...

They left the small house in the early hours, when it wasn't quite morning yet. But the deepest night at least was over. It was still dark, however, and cold.

Annoyed, Clarke rolled her eyes at the weather. She was so over it. With a weary sigh, she followed Bellamy, who was leading her on their way into the unknown. He had jotted down a map for her, showing her the rough outline of the route they would be taking, deep into the Outskirts, and from there, into Silveren territory. The thought alone had made her feel the tingle of anxious anticipation, mixed with the cold sweat of a panic attack. But they didn't have a choice.

She wished they could have just stayed away from everyone else, away from the war, from the Golden, the Silveren, the Bonded and the Eternals. But it wasn't meant to be. They were in too deep. They were an amalgamation of it all, and they were falling apart. Bellamy's whole arm was slowly taking on the color of his scar, his pain a constant in both their lives. Their link was the one thing keeping him functioning, and when he quietly told Clarke that he was now officially holding the record of being the Eternal alive for the longest period without access to a weapon, she was so deeply shocked and upset that she didn't even know what exactly to say to him.

"So… this is uncharted territory? It could just be our bond keeping you alive?"

He gave her the saddest resigned look and apologized. Of course it wasn't his fault, she knew that. It just upset her that they couldn't figure this one out without help, that they had to deal with that whole complication to begin with. As if their strange relationship, their bond wasn't difficult enough already.

They were riding side by side, when Bellamy spoke next. "They'll be looking for me."

"We already know that," she replied, but he shook his head.

"Not just your people. Mine too."

"Why? For all they know you're still on your mission, right? You were alone, so nobody would be any the wiser on what actually happened."

"Yeah." He gave her a strange look.

"What are you not telling me?" Suddenly wary, she frowned at him. But he only shook his head, strands of dark hair falling in his eyes, before he turned away again, scanning the land ahead of them.

"They expected me to report back a while ago."

"Report back?"

He looked at her somewhat flustered. "Don't play dumb, Clarke. Even if you're not military, you should know that soldiers can't just go off and leave without anyone noticing."

Biting her lip, she tried to fight the urge to snap back at his patronizing tone. She knew he was agitated, she could feel it over their link, so she let it go. But she was still a little upset about it.

"Alright," she eventually said, "You're overdue for reporting back. That's it? Which means they'll think you either died or got captured—"

"Or deserted," he added, his mouth a thin line. "They'll be searching for me. An Eternal can't just leave. There'll be a highly trained search troop coming for me. For us..."

Awesome, Clarke thought. How many more rocks would get thrown into their path? She had hoped Wells's betrayal was the worst of it, and that him coming around would make things at least a little easier for them. She was stupid for having allowed herself to entertain that thought. Nothing was easy anymore.

"So what now?"

They exchanged a glance. Clarke could see the muscles work in Bellamy's jaw as he seemed to be making a decision.

"There's someone I could try to contact," he eventually allowed, "They're military, too. An old friend... and my sister."

"You have a sister," Clarke blurted out in surprise, she couldn't help herself. Bellamy didn't seem to be reading anything into her testy tone, however, which was probably for the better. She didn't know what she had been thinking. They had slept together, spent time together, shared pain; and yet they were still only strangers to each other. She knew _nothing_ about him. And he knew nothing about her.

He had a sister...

She forced herself to redirect her thoughts. Two groups of people were coming for them. Hers and his. It was only a matter of time until one or maybe even both groups found them. They would have to be even more careful to not fall into the wrong people's hands. Easier said than done when you needed help.

Now Bellamy had mentioned that friend, and a sister. But they were military too, and that worried Clarke. Trusting someone that was also with the Silveren military didn't sound like a good plan at all. She didn't really know what to say.

"What if your friend informs her superiors that you contacted her? What about your sister? How close are you? Can you really trust her? I mean, if your people are that desperately waiting to hear back from you?"

"They wouldn't do that."

Clarke frowned, strangely annoyed about how sure of that he sounded. Because her own best friend _had_ betrayed her…

"You don't know that."

Bellamy smiled at her mildly. "I do."

"That's what I thought about Wells and Maya," she argued, and his expression changed into something darker, sadder. But there was understanding in there, too, and it got to her.

"I know. But that may have been the bond corrupting them. They may have gotten brainwashed during whatever 'training' you guys get when you establish that type of… connection."

Clarke's breath hitched. He had said it so casually, like he just knew how the military worked and that that was something they would do. But the thought had never even occurred to her. Yet it explained so much. The Wells she knew - had known - would have never done what he had ended up doing.

"But I'm sure your military gives you all similar training," she argued, still trying to make sense of his words. Bellamy shook his head, suddenly guarded, clenching and unclenching his jaw. Something was working in him, and she didn't know what that was.

"You can't tell me we are so much worse than you guys," she added, scrutinizing him. Before she could continue, he interrupted her, sounding uncharacteristically angry.

"That's not what I'm saying. If anything, it's the other way around. The Silveren… _we_ are worse. Okay? You have no idea _what_ they do to us once we've joined the military. And that is exactly the reason why I trust my friend. And my sister." He gave her a pointed look, then asked, "Do _you_ have siblings, Clarke?"

She pressed her lips together, suddenly feeling vulnerable.

"No." It was just a breath.

"Then you don't understand the trust that comes with that."

He looked at her, agitation visible in his features. Her eyes flitted over him, her anger quickly dissipating, despite his harsh words. He was right. She didn't know what it was like to have a brother or sister, but she did know how much she had trusted her own flesh and blood, her parents. She would have to trust Bellamy and hope that his own trust in people she didn't know would, in turn, be honored.

What he had said about the Silveren military gave her pause. She merely had to put two and two together to figure out that whatever he was alluding to couldn't be very good. If the scar on his arm that had turned him into an Eternal was anything to go by, it must have been gruesome. She didn't have the heart to ask or argue any more, so she finally simply nodded and they continued on their journey in silence for a while.

* * *

...

They had been riding for half a day already, with only one stop in between, and Clarke felt herself getting too sore and too tired. That there was still an awkward tension between them didn't help matters at all.

She wasn't willing to admit that she needed a break, however, pride getting the better of her. So she simply trudged on, hoping against hope that Bellamy would soon make the decision that it was time to put up camp for the night. When that didn't happen, when they were still marching on come nightfall, even their horses looking tired and drawn, she sighed, and eventually put her foot down.

"Alright. Fine. I'm done," she announced, stopping right where she was and hopping off her poor horse. The ground underneath her was hard and frozen over and it was probably not the greatest spot to spend the night, but it was better than sitting on a horse for even just another minute. She was over it.

Bellamy reined his horse in, finally looking at her for the first time in hours, and Clarke was a little surprised to see him smile at her. Her own features darkened as she glared at him.

"Do you have anything to say, or are you just gonna stay on your horse and… stare at me?" Her frustration broke out of her unbidden, which made her even angrier. And she _was_ angry, she didn't even know why. Angry at her situation, at the world, at being kept in the dark about that friend and sister of Bellamy's.

"You're jealous." He smirked at her, hopping off his horse with ease. As he came to stand before her, Clarke's glare intensified. She rolled her eyes and turned away from him, rubbing a cold hand over her icy cheeks and nose.

"Whatever," she hissed. "I'll just try and get some rest…"

She wasn't looking, but she heard him busy himself with his horse behind her back, while she tried to set up camp, making a little bedstead of sorts under a few nearby trees. She felt his stare in her back, felt his smile, but she didn't look around. He had called her jealous. She was upset about that, too. Admittedly, though, he was right. She _was_ jealous. She didn't know the friend or sister at all. Didn't know what they looked like, whether they were smart, kind, or rough and wild. She didn't know whether they could truly trust either of them. And she was terrified of getting sidelined by them. Those women had history with Bellamy.

Something she didn't really have yet.

 _Unless you count that strange mind-bond, or the fact that you pretty much saved my life; the fact that you were there for me when I was at my worst. Or the fact that I love you…_

She started and whirled around. "You read my mind," she breathed, embarrassed, shocked, angry.

"I - what?" He gave her a genuinely puzzled look, a slightly uncomfortable frown, and she checked their bond, heat flushing into her face as she realized what had happened. She was in _his_ mind. Not the other way around. Biting the inside of her lip, she looked away, upset with herself. She really needed to pull herself together. Whenever she got too agitated, she apparently overrode his poor mind and-

He loved her.

His words registered with her at exactly that moment and she secretively stared up at him, where he stood by his horse. Did he really mean it?

Slowly, she walked over until she stood right in front of him, gazing up into his eyes, a finger moving up to touch the curl of his lips as if of its own accord. He seemed a bit self-conscious, maybe perplexed, but he didn't push her away. Was he even aware that she had heard what he had said? Love was a pretty big word...

"There's really nothing for you to be jealous about, Clarke," he said, swallowing, finally averting his gaze. "I'm sorry if I or any of my actions today led you to believe otherwise. I'm... scared, is all, I guess," he quietly admitted with such raw honesty that she forgot why she had even been upset to begin with. "Maybe I was trying to flee from that powerless feeling by riding without a pause. I'm sorry. I should have-"

She placed a finger right over his mouth, stopping him, shaking her head. She wanted to save him the trouble, wanted to spare him having to be so open and vulnerable.

 _I love you too_ , she abruptly blurted out, using her inner voice, closing her eyes. What the hell was she doing? This was definitely not just "saving him the trouble." This was... stupid. Scary. Honest.

Her heart was beating way too fast.

 _I really do. And that's what scares_ me.

* * *

…

They spent the night huddled together under all the blankets they had, still freezing terribly. Clarke was the first one up in the morning, and quickly began to finally make a small fire and get some water boiling to awaken their frozen bodies.

They hadn't dared it during the night, too aware of the fact that the flames could have been seen from miles away. They had paid for their caution dearly, teeth chattering, fingers and toes blue, and Clarke was worried that the new day's ride would be the worse for it.

When the water was hot and ready, she walked over to where Bellamy still sat leaning against one of the trees. Extending a mug full of steaming water to him, she smiled.

"Drink up. We gotta get going," she told him, and he grimaced at her chipper tone.

"How do you even do it?" he asked, and she shrugged, knowing what he meant.

"My grandma said winters didn't used to be this bad, though they certainly used to be this cold. Just not for as long. She said way back when - way before the Last War - most people were like us: sturdy enough to function both in the heat and the cold."

"I guess evolution screwed us over in that regard, too, then. The Silveren shouldn't even be around anymore."

She smiled at him mildy. "Well, I, for one, am glad that _you_ are still around." Her words were as close to an acknowledgment of their confessions from the day before as they had gotten. She flopped down next to him, getting ready for the inevitable talk, when suddenly, they both heard noises: horses approaching. People.

They froze. Exchanging a glance, they scrambled up.

 _Who do you think it is?_ Clarke asked, fear rising inside of her. She wished for it to be a troop of her own people, but then again, what did it matter anymore? The Golden weren't going to treat them any better than the Silveren. Unless they came across someone that hadn't heard of their escape. Which was highly doubtful, at least if they encountered any Golden. She knew how it worked. All the Bonded would have informed their partners. They had an intricate system among themselves. She hadn't been in a mind-bond for long enough to have been taught how exactly it worked, but she knew that it did.

Bellamy motioned for her to stay with the horses, while he slowly crept past the trees and surrounding underbrush to try and catch a glimpse of whoever was out there. She felt her knees start shaking and she tried her best to tense her body to stop it.

When he came back to her, he didn't look too pleased. _My_ _people. Definitely military. I've counted six; an outpost, most likely. Could be a search troop..._

Her heart sank at the news. _What should we do?_

He gave her a look, intense and dark. For a crazy moment she thought he could just betray her. Offer her up. For his own safety; for a reward.

 _I'd never do that._ He looked hurt. Despite their dire situation, what had really gotten to him was that stupid thought of hers and she was upset that she had managed to screw up yet again and he had been able to read it.

 _I know_. She gave his arm a quick squeeze and was relieved when he seemed to accept it. He clenched his jaw, peeking out between the bushes again, and she repeated her question.

 _So what should we do?_

 _Wait. Hope they won't see us_. He didn't move, just stared at her. It was strange how good they had gotten at communicating that way. It felt almost natural.

 _And if they do?_ she asked, forcing herself to not fidget with her hands by shoving them deep into the pockets of her coat. She was so horribly nervous. Anxious. She needed to remember to breathe. Don't panic, she told herself and she saw him give her a small smile.

 _I'll try to talk to them. Breathe, Clarke. It'll be alright._

She smiled back, feeling awkward. She hadn't had anyone other than her mom or Wells look out for her in a too long time. She was simply not used to this. She sniffed, overwhelmed by everything.

 _Do you think they could know who you are?_

He took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. Out there, the approaching sounds were getting louder, but Clarke was focused only on him.

 _Bellamy?_

His gaze was trained on the horizon when he finally answered. _They will most definitely know._

 _Because you're an Eternal and haven't reported back..._ She nodded, rolling her eyes at herself. Of course they would know who he was. _They've all been told to look for you._

 _That too_. He shook his head, looking incredibly uncomfortable. _But also because I'm their Captain's son…_

Clarke's mouth fell open as she gazed at Bellamy in shock. She didn't know too much about the Silveren, about their political structure, their military. Heck, she didn't even know enough about her own. But she did remember one thing: The Silveren were a people under the command of the military. They had only one true leader, and it was their Captain.

And Bellamy was... the Captain's son?!


	14. Enemy encounter

...

The small group of people came to a stop and dismounted their horses.

Bellamy could hear them talk among themselves, low voices that were hard to understand. Still, he was almost certain he had heard one of them mention horse tracks. He clenched his jaw, fighting with his rising anger. Stupid snow. The weather really wasn't good for anything. They had probably left a perfect trail of hoof prints, making it easy for anyone to follow them. It was a surprise, then, that no one had caught up with them until now.

He knew that they had Wells to thank for that, at least in part, though he was reluctant to admit it after what the man had pulled. For Clarke's sake he wanted to believe Wells had always had his best friend's interests at heart, and he couldn't fault the guy for that.

But he didn't have time to think more about that, for right then, a tall pasty man - probably their leader - pointed toward where Clarke and Bellamy were hiding.

With an annoyed grimace, Bellamy stepped out into the open, bracing himself. He had no idea what orders they might have gotten. Though at least he was pretty certain they were told not to kill him on sight.

The pasty man and his followers visibly started upon seeing Bellamy, and he saw them draw their weapons. Most of them merely had small daggers, but the tall guy was brandishing a sword. Without his Eternal weapon, Bellamy suddenly felt rather naked. He wouldn't appear to be much of a threat to them. Part of him had secretly hoped there would be an Eternal among them, someone to steal a bandage from, maybe even the weapon.

He would have to go with trying to be friendly, instead.

"You're approaching Silveren territory," the pasty one was informing him, and Bellamy couldn't suppress a smirk.

"I know," he replied, standing up straight, making sure he was eye level with the soldier. He stared at the man, and the man stared right back.

"There's tracks from two horses."

Bellamy rolled his eyes. "So?"

"Who are you traveling with?"

"None of your concern." Bellamy was playing now. He knew that Pasty was very aware of who he was dealing with. There was a flicker in the man's eyes, and Bellamy could tell that the others in the group were all on edge, waiting for something. But he wasn't going to spare them the awkwardness of calling him out.

He saw a nervous tick make Pasty's lip move awkwardly before the man finally hissed, "Don't make this difficult. You're Blake, aren't you? Where have you been?"

"The Council should know what my mission was. I'm not gonna divulge it to you."

There were advantages to being the Captain's son. They all feared her just as much as he did, and they would never question her.

"Be that as it may. You are to come with us now." Pasty was all business, ignoring the insult. "The Council want you back. The Captain wants you back."

Bellamy smirked. "One could almost think they care about me," he quipped and earned himself another glare. He simply couldn't help himself. Shoving his hands into his pockets, silently cursing the freaking cold yet again, he waited for the other man's inevitable retort. Surely Pasty would try a stab of his own.

"They are just worried you turned traitor on us. They'll want to question you - especially now that I can't see your weapon on you."

Bellamy raised his eyebrows, then shrugged. He couldn't argue there. The lack of a weapon was rather obvious, of course.

"The second horse?" A woman, much younger, with a prominent tattoo on her face had stepped closer, eyeing Bellamy warily. Something about her seemed… off. The way she carried herself, the way she held her dagger. Bellamy squinted at her.

"It's mine," Clarke's warm voice suddenly piped up behind him, and he fought the urge to whirl around and glare at her. _What the hell, Clarke?!_

 _They'd have found out soon enough, anyway. Better just get it over with. Show some good will..._

"And who are you?" The troop of soldiers were wary, suspicious. Pasty held up a hand to keep them from moving.

Bellamy slowly stepped slightly in front of Clarke, holding a protective arm in front of her.

"She's with me," he explained, "that's all you need to know."

 _We could pretend we are willing to do what they want, and try to lose them later,_ Clarke suggested and he wanted to shake his head, but stopped himself.

 _No_ , he communicated, nervous now, _we can't risk it. I'll have to…_

He felt her press herself against his arm ever so slightly, as if to reassure him, when suddenly, she gasped audibly, catching herself a little too late.

 _What_.

 _That girl, the one by their leader? I've seen her before. At the hospital. She was a patient of my mom's. Bad injury, almost lost her arm. I remember her because she was the first patient I got to assist her with. Emori..._

She was a Golden. Bellamy's features darkened with sudden anger. If she was a Golden, she was surely a Bonded who had infiltrated the Silveren army. He tried to stay calm, tried to think.

 _We can use this._

 _No._ Clarke instantly knew what he meant. _Wouldn't they torture her if they found out? Kill her?_

 _Probably. She's a traitor._

 _Bellamy, she's one of my people._

He sighed. He hated the infiltrators with a passion. They had lost many good soldiers because of them, had lost fights. They were worse than regular traitors, because they had never actually been on the Silveren side, had been there to bring them down from the very start.

He had always hated the freaking war to begin with, though, and thus anyone who made the number of casualties even higher.

He was also bonded to a Golden himself now, so did that make him a hypocrite? (He wasn't just bonded, either. He was in love, hopelessly, stupidly, dangerously in love.)

He raised his chin, still hearing Clarke's words in his head. Then he addressed the pasty guy once more. "You'll have to let us go on our way."

"I can't do that."

"I'm sure Emori here," the girl flinched slightly at hearing her name, surely shocked that Bellamy knew it, "will be able to confirm that I have matters to attend that can't wait. Direct orders from the Captain."

"You're just using your 'special connection' to the Cap to your advantage." The man sniffed, nostrils flaring with obvious anger. " _We_ have orders, too, and no one mentioned that you'd have a mission still to attend to."

Bellamy stared him down. "Well, be my guest, then. Bring me directly in front of the Council. But don't be surprised if they won't thank you for your service." He extended both hands, wrist to wrist, as if offering himself up to be cuffed.

 _Bellamy…_

 _Relax, princess. He's not gonna do it. And if he tries after all, I'll just… take care of him._

 _Take care of him?_

But he didn't have to explain the obvious to her. She knew what he meant, and he could feel her disapproval over their link. Thankfully, Pasty - who still hadn't even introduced himself, Bellamy noticed - backed away a little, if undoubtedly annoyed, and shook his head.

"Emori?" He reluctantly turned to look at the young soldier, and she coughed awkwardly before answering.

"Uh, he's… right. Sir. Sorry, I was not at liberty to discuss this before meeting with the Eternal directly, Sir. In fact, I'll… need to have word with him in private. If I may?"

Pasty looked positively exasperated. With a huff, he motioned for his soldier to do as she had seemingly been ordered, and the girl quickly walked a few steps to the side with both Clarke and Bellamy.

Bellamy smirked at her, almost feeling sorry for the Golden Bonded. Almost. He had given the girl a chance, so there was no need for sympathy.

"Clarke, right?" Emori shot an alarmed glance from her to Bellamy, then back. "Is he…"

"Let us go, Em, or you'll all die." Clarke looked at her sternly, her voice firm, brokering no argument. Her tone made Bellamy feel slightly in awe of her.

"What… what's going on? They told me you had escaped together… my partner was there when it happened..."

Something dawned on Bellamy then. "That stupid idiot Murphy is bonded to you?! Really?" He was incredulous. But it was the only possibility, seeing as Wells had left the kid alive. The girl's surprised look confirmed it. "Well, fuck me," it escaped him, and he shook his head, exchanging a glance with Clarke, who shrugged at him.

They were still screwed, then. Emori had probably already informed dear Murphy about their current location. They really needed to get going.

"Are you on their side now, Clarke?" The girl cocked her head, scrutinizing her, "I'm confused. Is he forcing you? What's going on here?"

"We are on nobody's side anymore," Clarke whispered, and Bellamy knew it was true. It was them against everyone now, there were no sides anymore other than their own.

"But..."

"We don't have time. Did you already communicate our whereabouts to the Sergeant?" Clarke asked, absently clutching Bellamy's arm, and he found himself staring at her hand in wonder. He really wasn't alone anymore…

"I," Emori faltered, looking unhappy and put on the spot.

Bellamy closed his eyes briefly. This was all rather unfortunate, a mess that couldn't be resolved.

"They'll find out who you are," he informed the Golden soldier. "You should try and flee as soon as you get the chance. Until then, make sure they believe the story we just made up. If not-"

Without preamble, Emori abruptly pulled out a small revolver, aiming it straight at Bellamy, who squinted disappointedly at her.

"I'm sorry," she muttered unhappily, "but I have my orders, I can't let you go."

 _Should have just ratted her out…_

 _How would that have solved the problem?_ Clarke sounded so disapproving even in his head that he had to regretfully smile to himself. Of course that only agitated the soldier in front of him more.

"Is this a joke to you?!"

Clarke tried to intervene by shoving herself between the two. Bellamy glared at her angrily as she did. But when he tried to stop her, Emori waved her firearm around so dangerously close to Clarke that he froze.

"Leave her out of this," he hissed.

"If she survives, I'll bring her home."

"You won't survive shooting me, not with these guys over there waiting…"

"I have my orders." She was insistent, and it made Bellamy's anger rise to irrational levels. "Letting an Eternal go is worse than a little collateral damage. If it means she and I will have to die, so be it."

He rolled his eyes. "You can't be serious."

Emori glared at him. "I'm sorry, Clarke," she muttered, not breaking eye contact with Bellamy.

"Em—"

It all happened so quickly that, for a moment, Bellamy wasn't sure it was really happening. The pasty guy had seemingly finally caught on to the fact that things were going awry under his watch. As he was calling out to them, Emori suddenly got nervous, started fidgeting, and accidentally pulled the trigger. Clarke was still right between her and Bellamy, and despite his best efforts to try and push her away and out of harm's way, he heard a horrible noise as the bullet connected with her body, tearing through her at lightning speed, and all he could do was watch in horror and disbelief as she spread her arms out as the force threw her back and she slumped down, right into his arms.

 _No_.

* * *

…

The next few minutes were nothing but a blur. Clarke in his arms, Bellamy felt the shock of the situation assault him in a strange surge. His brain was numb. Emori stared at him, wide-eyed and panicked, her mouth open in shock.

It was as if all noises had accumulated in the loud shot, and only silence was left.

Bellamy blinked, his sluggish mind trying to tell him something. Clarke needed help. He looked down and saw blood seeping through her coat. No no no. He wanted to lay her down gently, but then the reality of their situation finally came back into focus as the forgotten soldiers resurfaced at the periphery of his vision, coming closer.

He was breathing too fast. The world wasn't moving right.

"Freeze! I said fucking freeze!"

A switch was flipped and suddenly Bellamy found himself staring from Emori to the other soldiers, then back. The Golden held her firearm in a loose grip, hand shaky and unsteady. She was saying something, but not to Bellamy.

Then there was another loud bang and he quickly ducked down just in time to avoid being hit, laying Clarke on the ground, steadying himself with one arm to shield her. There was no escaping this anymore. No peaceful solution. It was all going to have to end there.

She stared at him briefly before her eyes rolled back into her head, her consciousness quickly leaving her. _Take care of them_ , was the last thing she communicated, and her sudden determination shocked him. But there was no time for qualms, for thinking this through. Clarke was bleeding too much...

...

With a sudden jump, he returned into a standing position, then whirled around, lashing out with one outstretched leg to kick at the most imminent opponent, making Emori fall.

He heard the other soldiers call out, though what they were saying was still unintelligible to him, as if he had forgotten how to speak their language. He rushed over to the girl, a look of regret on his face as he bent down.

"No, please," she begged, and he stared at her with a grim expression, remembering Clarke's words. One of her people... _Take care of them_... He swallowed, then tore her gun away from her, glaring at her as he did.

"Don't make me regret this," he muttered before swiftly hitting the girl over the head with the handle of the revolver instead of killing her, and her head rolled to the side as she was knocked out.

"The hell are you doing, Blake?! We should have questioned that girl! She's one of _them_!" Pasty was in his face, not an inch away. The man didn't know what was coming to him. What was happening.

Until it was too late.

The Silveren soldiers wouldn't back off, he knew that. He needed to keep Clarke safe. It was all that mattered. He needed to make them stop.

And so he did.

...

It was over quickly. The ground under his feet was a bloody mess when he was finished, and he took a shuddering breath as he saw the carnage.

He was a monster, had always been one. But even that didn't matter anymore, because Clarke was still lying on the cold snow, bleeding, and he needed to save her.

She was all that mattered anymore.


	15. Shot

...

When Clarke opened her eyes, it was hazy all around her and she wasn't sure whether it was because of the misty air or something her brain was doing. She felt foggy all over, and she was in pain, a throbbing, burning, imminent sensation.

A moan escaped her unbidden as she tried to sit up, to no avail.

Slowly, she became more aware and noticed that she was moving. She felt the horse's muscles ripple under her, felt blankets surrounding her, and that horrible pain in her side. She grimaced, gingerly trying to reach the spot with her shaky hand.

And then she remembered. Emori had tried to shoot Bellamy and had shot her instead. She had gotten _shot_. In the middle of freaking nowhere, away from any reliable hospitals. At least as far as she knew. It was hard to believe, although her body did its best to remind her. Clenching her teeth, she stifled another moan. Then suddenly, her horse stopped and she heard footsteps approaching.

Bellamy's drawn and exhausted face appeared in front of her. He tried to smile as his arms slowly came around her and pulled her off the horse. She yelled out in pain, feeling a sob rise in her throat unbidden, and she couldn't help it, too hot tears were starting to roll down her cool cheeks.

"It hurts," she muttered, feeling small and pathetic, but she didn't even care.

"I know. I'll do what I can…"

She felt so stupid. She had shared some of his pain before, and hadn't done too bad with it. But somehow this was different. Worse.

 _Because it's your own._

She sniffed, clinging to him as he lowered her to the ground. Only then did she realize that they were not outside anymore but in something that looked like a shed. Straw was lying on the ground, and it smelled distinctly like animals, though she couldn't see any.

"Old farm partly burnt down. Looks like the people just up and left after that. Took their cattle." Bellamy gave her a look, distraught and weary, and she felt strangely guilty.

"I made a freaking mess of this," she whispered. Even speaking was a strain making the pulsing pain in her side worse. She flinched.

He shook his head at her, smiling a small smile. "Emori did. _You_ saved me again, Clarke. I'd be dead without you…"

She touched his face, her fingertips barely grazing his cold skin before gravity and exhaustion made her drop her arm back down by her side.

"I'll have to check on your wound again, I'm afraid."

She swallowed, then grimaced. "That doesn't sound like much fun."

His smile was still just a lingering curl around the corners of his mouth, but his eyes lit up a little more, and she saw sympathy in there, and love. As well as something darker…

She hissed as he carefully went about his work, gently opening her coat, pulling her shirt up.

"How bad is it?" she asked, although she didn't actually want to know.

"Not great. But you'll live."

"You need to work on your bedside manners, Bellamy Blake," she informed him and heard him give a half chuckle. "You know, 'not great' is not a great start..." She winked, but then grimaced and moaned as another shot of pain pierced her side.

"I'm sorry." He stopped briefly to give her a moment, then continued. "Well, on the plus side, I got the bullet out when you were still out. So, the worst is over."

Her breath hitched as he took off the last strip of whatever dressings he had put on the wound and she closed her eyes as she fought to stay conscious. His hand on her forehead was such a soothing touch that she finally managed to take a shuddering breath.

"Almost done. Wish I could take on some of your pain, like you did for me…"

She could hear it in his voice, how upset he was, feeling inadequate. He thought he was weak because he couldn't do it.

"You're not weak," she muttered, trying to look at him, though she had trouble focusing.

He grimaced. "Read my mind again there, huh?" he said, trying to sound chipper.

She wiggled her eyebrows at him briefly, but her smile wasn't long lasting. _It's okay. Really. I know why you can't. You have too much of your own. I don't even know how you're functioning with that much pain in you. Because I sure as hell can't even get up right now._

He grinned at her, then sobered quickly. "We'll need to get you to an actual doctor."

"Didn't you take care of the bullet? I'm sure-"

He shook his head, not letting her finish. "You'll need antibiotics," he told her, and she pressed her lips together, upset and frustrated. Why did that stupid girl have to shoot? Emori had robbed them of the chance to resolve the situation peacefully. She had ruined so much, and the worst part was that Clarke felt responsible, like it was her fault, too.

How were they ever going to get antibiotics unless they went to a place with a hospital? With people… She shivered involuntarily. They couldn't trust anyone. They couldn't go to a hospital.

"And where can we get those?" she asked out loud, sounding way too defeated even for her own ears, and Bellamy gave her a sad grin.

"We'll figure something out. Let's make sure your wound is taken care of first, and then we'll make our way to the nearest settlement. There should be one not too far from here."

"How far?" She was annoyed to hear how needy she sounded. How needy she felt...

"Half a day maybe?"

She took a deep breath that came back out as a sigh. They would be gone a while then. Half a day for her to spend riding on a horse, injured and in pain. Great. But she couldn't exactly stay behind either, could she? She wouldn't be able to put up much of a fight if the soldiers they had encountered came for her.

The soldiers... It dawned on her then that they probably wouldn't. Bellamy had done what she had asked of him, she knew it with such sudden clarity as if she had been there, and it was the strangest feeling, like the whiff of a memory not hers. She didn't know what had happened, how exactly they had made it out. But she was certain the Silveren hadn't just let them leave, and that only allowed for one scenario. She locked gazes with Bellamy, communicating her jumbled thoughts rather than trying to put them into words. It was too difficult, too painful, for both of them.

Already a different, uncomfortable heat had crept into her cheeks, one that had nothing to do with her injury. She had asked him to kill these people... And now she needed to know whether he had. Not so much for her sake, but for his. She couldn't let him carry that burden alone. It was hers, too.

 _They're gone, aren't they?_

He sniffed, averting his gaze as if he couldn't face her anymore, but she gently reached up, touching his cheek, his muscles taut. Six against one. Unarmed.

 _It's okay... s_ he soothed.

She didn't need to hear him say it, she knew. And although she didn't have the heart to ask more, he must have felt her distraught sadness for him anyways, because out loud he said, "I'm a soldier, princess. It's… not pretty."

"I know," she muttered, holding his gaze. "I'm sorry."

She could feel how distressed he was behind his impassive exterior. Deep down she could feel it eating at him, dark and smoldering. She could feel it even with him trying to shield himself from her. He wasn't a mindless killer, she knew that, and taking lives had taken a toll on him.

It didn't matter that it had been necessary.

Clarke gnawed on her lip, trying to deal with it all, with the awful feeling of responsibility for someone's death, the abrupt realization that she was the bad influence in this relationship. She, the Golden, was what had turned this man before her, the Silveren Eternal, into what he hadn't wanted to be ever again. What she hadn't wanted to see ever again.

And yet here they were.

She had done this.

...

As Bellamy finished tending to Clarke's injury, both of them were silently trying to come to terms with the weight of what they had done.

Once the dressings were renewed, Bellamy slowly got up and prepared everything so they were ready to leave for the settlement he had mentioned. Using the last light of day to guide them through the toughest part of their road, they eventually went on their way.

Since he had stupidly decided to spare Emori, and although he doubted she would come after them, he couldn't be sure she wouldn't send someone on their way. He wasn't going to risk Clarke's life by having her wait all by herself, wounded and vulnerable, half a day away from him, and they had wordlessly agreed to go together despite her current state. They both knew that there were too many people out there looking for them. Golden and Silveren alike. If the first search group had gotten that close to them already, it was only a matter of time until the next one was onto them. The slaughter of five Silveren soldiers would certainly not go unnoticed for long. Clarke was simply not safe so close to the site of the fight. Bellamy hadn't been able to bury the dead, either, due to the stupid frost, and their blood on the white snow was a beacon to anyone crossing by.

He closed his eyes briefly as a storm of images flashed through his mind, images so gruesome he needed to try and bury them deep where he had already buried so many others before. Too many...

 _Bellamy?_ Clarke reached out and he turned around to smile at her. _They didn't leave you a choice,_ she said, sympathetically. He had tried to hide the memories from her. But of course she saw the images anyway. He grimaced, wondered whether she was right, whether it was really true that he didn't have a choice.

 _It is._ Clarke's words right there in his mind helped more than he would have thought. He was grateful for her, and it surprised him. Still. How he had grown to like how close they were, how she really truly 'got him,' how she was always there. It had been so foreign at first, so intrusive. Awful. But now... she truly was a part of him.

"How are you holding up?" he asked her, falling back a little so that he could check on her where she lay slumped over the horse, her face lined with pain. He was still upset that he couldn't help her more there. All he could do was try to ward off his own pain as best as he could, and he worked hard on doing that, so that she wouldn't have to deal with feeling any of that on top of her own.

"Okay," she breathed, but he could tell it was a lie.

"It's not much farther."

They were finally approaching the town he had mentioned earlier. It was a small independent settlement, neither on the side of the Golden nor the Silveren. They had gotten far into the Outskirts, and the farther away from the big cities they got, the less the people out there cared about being involved in a war they didn't understand. Yet the areas had also been the worst affected by the Big Ones - built on ruins - and trying to survive there meant a hard life.

He wasn't willing to risk Clarke's safety by bringing her into the town, but they had agreed that she would wait just a little outside of it until he had made sure it was safe.

He still had no idea how best to acquire the medication she needed. All he knew was that he needed to be quick. He couldn't leave Clarke alone for too long. She needed a warm place to lay down, and he was worried about her wound getting infected.

Finally, he could see the dark silhouettes of houses emerge in the shadows before them, and he got off his horse, tethering it to a tree. They were just a little outside the settlement, but far enough away that Clarke would hopefully be safe from detection. He quickly put a tarp and a few blankets down on the ground, then gently helped Clarke off her horse. Mindful of her injury, he allowed her to lean heavily against him, then carried her over to the makeshift stead and laid her down as slowly and carefully as he could. His arm was protesting as he did, but he angrily gritted his teeth and fought his way through the pain. This needed to stop.

Of course Clarke noticed.

 _Maybe they'll have something to help you, too..._ She looked at him with concern, and he tried to wave it off.

 _Right now it's more important that we get the antibiotics for you._

 _It's not more important. You need a new bandage._

He sighed, not in the mood for arguing, especially not when he knew she honestly cared about him. He was not used to that anymore and didn't know how to deal with it, how to react _._ It was strangely unsettling.

 _Has there really not been anyone to care about you? Your parents? What about your sister? Your friend? Girlfriend? Boyfriend?_ Clarke gazed at him so intently as if she was looking straight through to his soul. It should have been uncomfortable, he should have felt put on the spot perhaps. But all he could do was marvel at how lucky he was to have a girl like her care about him.

He clenched his jaw, trying to focus as he tucked her in as best as he could, putting a jug of water and a box of crackers in her reaching distance to make sure she would be as comfortable as possible while he was gone.

"So... really no one?"

"Can't let it go, huh, princess?"

She smiled at him, shaking her head.

He didn't look at her when he told her, "Certainly not my parents." He scoffed. "And my pretty pathetic love life isn't even worth mentioning. Got my heart broken a couple of times by being stupid. That's it. Octavia, my sister... we'd do anything for each other, but..." He trailed off, chuckling. Clarke would have to meet her to understand. "She's fierce and loyal, but also very opinionated. And ornerous."

He grinned and she reciprocated the expression. She was curious about his sister. Wondered whether she looked like him at all? Was like him? It made him smile a little.

"And the friend?"

Bellamy made a face. He could tell that there was still a tinge of involuntary jealousy in Clarke, and he had to smile. "Raven." He nodded to himself. "She's a good friend. But I haven't seen her in a very long time." He fell silent, memories of his time with her washing over him. She had always been kind. One of the few...

Clarke touched his arm, gently, making him look at her. "I'm sorry," she whispered. "And you're not stupid, Bellamy."

He chuckled, coming back out of his growing darkness before it could take over completely. "Arguable. But thanks." He paused, running a hand through his hair as he scrutinized her, the light sheen of her eyes, her flushed cheeks. She was probably developing a fever. This wasn't good. He needed to hurry.

"What about you?" he asked, matter-of-factly, trying to keep her mind from dwelling on her pain. "Other than good old Wells," she grimaced at the name, "who has cared about _you_? I really hope you had more luck."

She grew wistful, and he almost regretted asking her. He gently stroked her cheek, kissing her forehead, following an impulse. "I'm sorry. You don't have to-"

"My parents," she whispered, tears forming in her eyes. She swallowed, then continued. "My grandparents. They're all gone now." She sniffed, wiping the back of her hand over her nose. "It used to be Wells, and even Maya, yes." She gave him an awkward look and took a deep shuddering breath, holding her side as she did. "I had a few relationships, nothing too committed.

He cocked his head, curious now. "No?"

She made a face, then suddenly flushed. "Well, until you, maybe..."

Bellamy squinted at her briefly, despite everything still a bit disbelieving. She had entered his life with such a bang, had turned it upside down, and he had fallen in love with her along the way. And still, it felt almost too good to be true that she might feel the same.

Then, following an impulse he quickly leaned over and simply kissed her, stopping her from saying any more. Her lips felt warm and soft, familiar, her breath caressing him as he eventually pulled away. Sighing, he reluctantly got up.

"I gotta go, Clarke," he said, "But I'll be back as soon as I can."

"Be careful." She smiled, pulling the blanket around her closer, and seeing her like that, injured and pale, left him with an ache he didn't know how to deal with other than push it down and away. He was good at that at least...

"You too..."

With a last nod, he turned around and walked into the night.


	16. The settlement

...

Bellamy hated leaving Clarke outside the settlement, but it was safer that way. For both of them. So he swiftly made his way alone down the small meandering road into the heart of the small town.

The place felt strangely deserted. He saw hints of what could have been a fight. Maybe the army had come through and found resistance. His skin started prickling uncomfortably. This wasn't good. He saw broken windows and half open doors, while some houses still seemed to be occupied. There was a Red Cross over one larger building he could see on the horizon and he thanked his lucky stars as he went straight over there.

He stayed vigilant, checking behind him as he walked, and he had the strange feeling of being watched through the cracks in the walls, the windows, a hundred eyes following his every move. He took a deep breath. Acutely aware of the blazing feeling of pain in his left arm, he subconsciously pulled his arm closer to his body, as if they could see the sheen through his clothes; which of course they couldn't.

Chin raised, he made his way over to the Red Cross and lightly tapped against its barred front door. He had no intention of sneaking in and stealing the medication, or fighting them for it, though if it came to it he would.

He stood waiting for at least two minutes, but he didn't knock again. He was sure they had heard him. And he was right. Suddenly, the heavy door creaked open a crack and a face appeared.

Bellamy gasped, startled. Surprised. He knew that face... Could the world really be that small? Or was it more than coincidence, perhaps a trap? He instantly tensed as the door was opened wider.

"Raven," he hoarsely rasped by way of greeting. "Speak of the devil... I'll be damned."

"Bellamy?" She sounded careful, a question in her tone. "They said you're dead." It was a statement, dry and without emotion.

He made a face at her. Claiming he was dead surely was the council's safest way of dealing with his disappearance. They had no way of knowing what had happened to him, and they would certainly not allow the masses to even entertain the idea that he was alive but hadn't reported back. A potentially deserted or gone rogue Eternal, or worse, a traitor, that was unheard of.

"Yeah, well," he allowed, "I'm not." He lifted his arms away from his body as if to show her he was alive and well.

She squinted at him, arms protectively crossed in front of her, then she suddenly broke into a bright smile and gave him a quick hug. "You stupid idiot! I was worried about you. Your mother..."

He grimaced at the mention, raising a hand to stop her. He didn't want to hear it.

"Why are you here, Raven? Is this town occupied by the army now?"

She seemed to think, wagering what to tell him.

"I'm not here on any orders," he quietly assured her, trying to make her feel safe. "I'm merely here to ask for some antibiotics for a friend."

"A friend, huh?" She was still scrutinizing him. "Since when does Bellamy Blake have friends this far out? I guess we both have a story to tell then. Why don't you start?"

He cleared his throat to mask his annoyance, although he couldn't blame her. He would have done the same. Volunteering information never seemed like a good idea.

Finally he said, "I can't tell you anything until I know more about this place. Whether there's more soldiers here, whether it's part of an operation."

"Then I'm sure _you_ understand that I can't give you the medicine before I know who and what it's for…"

"Catch 22." He grinned at her with a shake of the head. Rubbing the back of his neck wearily, he hung his head for a moment, contemplating. He had told Clarke that he trusted Raven. Should he, though? He hadn't seen her in forever. Was her unexpected presence in the Outskirts a sign that she was part of one of the search teams? Would she turn on him?

His jaw worked when he looked at Raven again. Her eyes were still on him, watching him warily. "Can I come in?"

She tilted her head, frowning, brown ponytail falling to the side of her face. With a quiet sigh, she eventually opened the door wider, nodding inside. He stepped in guardedly, looking around the dimly lit house. Suddenly he spotted a group of people staring back at him, and he was almost ready to balk and run straight back out. But something kept him.

"Who are your friends?"

"Who is _your_ friend?" Raven's tone was mild, but challenging. She wasn't going to divulge any information before he did.

They stared at each other for a moment without saying anything. Bellamy was acutely aware of the people watching them intently. He quickly counted them, assessing his chances. If he had to fight them, could he do it? There were eight of them, Raven included, most of them young and strong looking, though he noticed that two of them were injured. He might be able to take them all on, but he hoped he wouldn't have to.

He gave a brief nod, closing his eyes for a moment before focusing back on her.

"Don't make me regret this, Raven."

She didn't say anything in return, though she gave him a compassionate look.

"If you haven't already heard about it: I was captured. But I got out. With the help of a friend. She got hurt. She needs antibiotics." No need to use too many words. Or mention the bond.

"So it's a she." Raven interjected knowingly. "And a Golden?" She raised an eyebrow, but it was hard to say what she was thinking. Her features softened. "That friend," she whispered almost conspiratorially, "does she know you love her?"

He half choked with surprise and almost blinked, but he caught himself quickly. She knew him too well. But he was careful not to acknowledge her last question. "Do you _have_ what I came here for?"

She gave a slow nod. "Fine. Because we are old friends. Promise me you won't bring her here, though. Promise me you'll leave."

She hadn't even told him yet what she was doing there, she and that motley group of hers. They didn't all look like soldiers, but some definitely were.

"What's going on here, Raven? What kind of mission-"

"No mission," she interrupted him, her gaze falling on the others. Bellamy saw a young man, almost still a boy, stand up in the back and slowly walk toward them. His guarded expression was half obscured by a mop of unkempt brownish hair. Bellamy had never seen him before, but he had a sudden sense of familiarity, almost as if the man was...

"You're an Eternal," he addressed the other man - a kid, really - just as he came to stand behind Raven. Bellamy's words had not been much more than a hiss.

 _This could be a chance. Do you think you could get a bandage from him?_

Bellamy closed his eyes briefly, feeling Clarke's sudden presence. _I don't know. He should have one…_ he allowed. Then he stared back at the other man warily.

"So are you," was the stern reply.

Bellamy wasn't sure what it meant, but suddenly, the kid laid an arm around Raven in a very familiar gesture and whispered something into her ear, so quietly Bellamy didn't catch it.

"I trust him," she was replying, and that, he did hear. He couldn't help smirking triumphantly at the other guy.

"Finn thinks I shouldn't tell you anything, because of whose son you are."

Bellamy almost choked on a laugh. "Well, tell _Finn_ ," he said the name with a good dose of condescension, "that I'm the best man to tell anything that you wouldn't want my mother to know."

Finn glared, but Raven grinned at Bellamy almost conspiratorially. Then she turned to face her companion. "Bellamy is right, Finn." She smiled at the boy softly. "Give us a minute?"

Finn nodded, reluctantly, then slowly walked back to the others.

"You're in love with _him_ then, I take it?" Bellamy smirked at her, amused. Raven wasn't generally a very gentle type of girl, but she had seemed softer, more caring for a minute while dealing with his fellow Eternal.

"That a problem?" she challenged, earning herself a true smile.

"Nah. I'm happy for you. Hope he's worth it."

"Thanks?" Raven stared at him, a grin forming on her face. They both broke into a chuckle. Bellamy sobered first, his expression growing earnest.

"You don't need to tell me anything. Just this: do I need to worry that any of you will come after me?"

She didn't hesitate for one moment and shook her head. "We're not following anyone anymore, Bellamy," she muttered with a pointed stare, and he finally understood. Deserters… He raised his chin, scrutinizing her, and her little group..

"What happened to you?"

She bit her lip, averting her gaze. "You don't want to know."

"There's a lot I don't want to know. But I need to."

She stared at him, her eyes full of a profound sadness he had never seen there before.

"The Captain didn't care that you didn't come back with the needed intel. Sent us out to fight anyway. I've never seen so many people die, Bellamy..." Tears were welling in her eyes, and he felt a terrible ache in his heart. "When it was over, a group of us... we were just done. We have no business being out here. It's too cold, the land has been either neutral or in Golden hand forever. It's not strategically important. Aurora just wanted it so she could let it go to waste, because she and that Golden General have history, or whatever. She did not care about the people living there. Or about us, her soldiers. Her very own people. She just sent us to slaughter."

She paused, looking at him as if she expected him to argue with her. But he had no such intention. He felt responsible because his capture had probably made it all happen. At the very least, it had made things happen sooner rather than later. Suddenly he felt sick. He swallowed, grimacing at his friend. His arm was pulsing with pain, and it got harder to ignore it. He needed to get going.

"I'm sorry," he muttered.

"That's not all." There was so much anguish in her face. Over her shoulder, Bellamy noticed Finn shooting worried glances their way. The kid really cared for her. Good. Raven needed someone who had her best interests at heart, someone who made her his priority.

"That group," she continued quietly, "our group, we left. Deserted - though I hate that word. We came to this town. Asked whether we could stay. And they let us. Some of us had been responsible for what had happened here, some of their people had gotten killed. And they still took us in. Because they knew better - and because your sister is a damn good diplomat." Her voice almost broke. She swallowed hard.

"O is here?" Bellamy was startled at the news and immediately worked up. His heart jumped at the suddenly real possibility of seeing her again. Raven nodded a small nod, a smile returning to her face.

"I gotta warn you, though. She made some similarly... interesting friends." She winked at him, making him frown. If he knew his sister at all, though, chances were she had been in the thick of it for a long time. The Neutral Zone was the perfect place for her to be.

 _Ask her,_ Clarke suddenly urged, appearing in his mind. Her non-sequitur jolted him straight out of his thoughts, and for a moment, he wasn't quite sure what she meant. _We can't just hide, Bellamy. Not forever. Not when your sister is here, too. I'm sure you want to see her._

 _Ask her what?_

 _You know what I mean. About your arm..._

He sniffed, running a hand through his hair. _I don't know._

 _This was our plan, right? Raven was supposed to help with your…_ our _problem, remember? We got lucky we met her earlier than expected._

 _Clarke..._ He didn't even know why he was so reluctant all of a sudden. His two worlds colliding, his sister meeting Clarke would make it all real, inescapable. Clarke was right, of course. They couldn't run forever. But he was terrified of endangering her as well as Raven and Octavia by bringing them all together.

 _You need something for your arm._

 _I don't want to get you in danger._

 _You won't,_ she said, still so much stronger than him. All he wanted was to be back with her, make sure she got the medicine and then ride into the freaking sunset with her, leaving the war and the cold behind forever.

 _We'll do that,_ she agreed, _one day, we will._

He nodded, as if to her, then looked straight at Raven again, who gave him a curious look.

"Can't believe it's really true." She was half smiling, incredulously. Bellamy frowned in confusion, before Raven explained, her finger tapping his temple, making him back away a step. "You're bonded. You, of all people. Captain's son, and an Eternal. You're really bonded. The rumors were true."

He grimaced, his eyes flickering unhappily. "There were rumors?"

Raven wagged her eyebrows, jerking her head to the side. "Don't ask me who came up with it first. Certainly sounded ridiculous. A Silveren and a Golden... But..." She trailed off, watching Bellamy. He felt uncomfortable under her scrutinizing gaze. What had given it away? How had she known?

"I've seen it before," she began explaining as if she had read his mind, "I was recruited for the Bonded Detection Unit after we finished basic training. Something about my extraordinary people skills, I'm sure." She laughed a clear heartfelt laugh, and even Bellamy couldn't suppress a smirk. If there was one thing the super talented Raven was actually not good at, it was people skills.

"You were part of the detection unit, really?"

She shrugged, almost apologetically. "You had that vacant look for a while. They get it when they're communicating over their link. Some are pretty good at hiding it, but that takes some serious training and with your timeline, it can't have been more than a few months for you. And then you nodded at no one, at nothing, just for a second..."

She was too observant, too smart. Bellamy scowled at her, unable to suppress a sudden defensive anger.

"So," Raven's smile softened. "Who is the lady that stole your mind and heart?"

"You'll meet her soon enough," he evaded, sighing. "There's one problem, though..."

"You mean, 'another' problem? Like we don't have enough of those already?" She grinned, but stopped quickly when she saw his dark expression. "What is it?" She was wary again. Worried.

He took his coat off in answer, making her frown. Showing would work better than trying to tell her, even though he wished he could just hide it away forever. Raven's frown deepened as he proceeded to slowly roll his shirt sleeve up as far as it would go. Her eyes widened in shock when she saw the silvery sheen poke out from under his bandage just above the elbow. She grabbed his upper arm, pulling him closer, inspecting what she saw.

"The hell happened, Bellamy?!"

He hissed, then pulled his arm away from her again, beginning to roll his sleeve back down. He was acutely aware of the gasps among the people in the back of the room that had apparently all seen it, too. Great. It made him feel even more uncomfortable.

 _I'm sorry. I wish I could be there,_ he heard Clarke say. He felt her compassion, and he clenched his jaw to fight all the battling emotions inside of him.

 _Me too. I like it better when_ you _look at me like I'm a piece of meat. These guys, though. Eh..._

He felt her sudden amusement, just felt _her_. And it made everything a little more bearable.

* * *

...

Upon seeing his arm, Raven quickly waved Finn back over to them, who eyed Bellamy warily as he walked over, hands shoved deep into the pockets of his pants.

"You seen something like that before?" Raven shot her boyfriend a glance and he shook his head.

"Never like that," he admitted carefully, looking from Raven to Bellamy. "Sorry, man."

Bellamy raised his eyebrows at him, his mouth turning into a line. "Yeah," he allowed.

"Where's your spare bandage, or your Weapon? Things like that shouldn't even have to happen anymore."

Bellamy couldn't help but shoot an angry glare at the kid. "Thanks, captain obvious. I don't have a spare and my weapon... is gone."

It was Raven who frowned at him there, while Finn remained noticeably calm, just curiously tilting his head, then extending his arms as if in surrender.

Bellamy grimaced. His nerves were frayed. At this rate, he would soon alienate himself from these people, whose help he relied on. With a deep sigh, he decided it was a better route to simply explain what had happened to him. He pointedly left out any specific details alluding to Clarke, other than her resulting injury. They didn't need that information, and while Raven was an old friend, he didn't know Finn and didn't trust him.

His first assessment of Raven's companion soon changed, however. Bellamy had barely finished recounting the rough outlines of his ordeal, the loss of his weapon and spare bandage, how the one he was wearing had gotten so shredded, when Finn gave him a strange look, then suddenly moved to take off his own.

"What are you doing?!" Both he and Raven berated him exasperatedly, but Finn merely shrugged, giving Bellamy a half smile as he continued unraveling the thickly woven length of fabric. When he was done, he held it out to Bellamy.

"You better wrap that around your arm; discard that piece of crap you're wearing now."

Bellamy's voice was even darker than usual when he replied.

"I can't accept that," he rasped out, knowing full well how bad the pain was without a bandage or weapon to keep it in check. Already he could see a light sheen of sweat appearing on the kid's forehead as he began battling the sensation. No matter his still mixed feelings about Finn, no one deserved to be in that kind of pain.

"I got my spare at home." Finn pointed vaguely over his shoulder, then met Raven's annoyed face. He made a dismissive gesture. "I'll go get it, while you help your friend get his girl to see the Doc."

"Finn." Raven sounded upset, and concerned. She really did like that boy, Bellamy realized. He watched as she leaned a little closer to gently berate him. "That's a thirty minute walk at least."

"Exactly. Back and forth, that'd be an hour. Too long for the girl. Come on, Ray. Let me go before it takes even longer."

For a moment they all just stared at each other. Then, eventually, Bellamy gave a quick nod, pressing his lips together as he did. "Fine." He finally took the proffered bandage and began wrapping his arm up. The long strand of glistening material felt cool to the touch and immediately soothing, and Bellamy took a deep relieved breath.

 _It's working..._ Clarke _._ Bellamy started. She sounded and felt like she was slipping away. He needed to hurry. This all had already taken entirely too long.

"Thanks," he told Finn and gave the other man a quick pat on the shoulder. "You better get on your way."

"You too," Finn replied and walked out the door, not before giving Raven a kiss on the forehead. She looked after him with a resigned expression, when Bellamy jolted her back.

"I need antibiotics, Raven. Now," he ordered, impatience making him start to slightly fidget.

"I'll come with you."

 _Bellamy. I don't think I can do this yet. Other people..._

Clarke seemed strangely panicked. He needed to get to her. Alone.

"No," he therefore said a little too harshly to Raven and she looked at him slightly affronted.

"Okay..."

"I'm sorry. Raven... it's just... we haven't had company in a while and—

"You don't need to explain," she interrupted him, suddenly turning around and walking over to a long room to their right, fishing something out of a nearby drawer and throwing it toward Bellamy. He caught it easily, staring at a small bottle with what he believed to be antibiotics.

"Bring her here whenever you are ready. Finn was right: we do have a doctor here, and if what you say is true and she got shot, Doc should take a look." She raised her eyebrows at him, tension in her body. But when Bellamy finally allowed a small grateful smile to appear on his face, she did smile back.

"Thank you, Raven. You're a life saver."

"Just go. - I'll get the doc up. And I'll send someone for Octavia."

His smile grew wistful as he whispered another "Thank you" to her before finally turning around and vanishing back into the night.

His sister. The thought of her made him feel both anxious and excited, a strange warmth spreading inside of him.

Not in a million years had he believed he would get to see O again.


	17. Red Cross

...

Clarke hated staying behind, waiting. Being in pain. She hated that she couldn't see the settlement with her own eyes and gauge the situation at the Red Cross. She hated realizing just how awkward Bellamy felt about all these people knowing about his arm.

Yet when he finally came back and relayed that Raven had mentioned a doctor and that he should bring Clarke over to the medical building, she was suddenly terrified and wanted to balk. They were all _his_ people. _Her_ enemies. The only Silveren she had met until that moment was Bellamy, and the monsters that had killed her dad, her grandparents.

She wasn't ready.

"Clarke. I told you we can trust Raven." Bellamy gave her a stern look. "You _need_ medical attention."

She pouted as he bent down and she hissed in pain, clinging to him when he helped her sit up slowly to swallow the first dose of the antibiotics he had brought back.

"We got the medicine. I'll be fine." She looked at him as he sat down with her, his body so close to hers, and it was as if he had never been away from her. He smiled.

It was strange, how something like the bond had grown on both of them so much. How it had changed them in just a few weeks. They had hated it at first, they hadn't had a choice in the matter after all. They had been made a couple of sorts by fate or whatever strange powers there were out there. But they had learned to live with it. No, more than that: They had fallen in love, not so much because of the bond but despite of it. They had become a real couple, this time by choice. Part of her still couldn't believe it.

"We should get going." Bellamy gave her a look, a hand against her neck, his thumb caressing a pulsing vein.

Clarke frowned at him, still unsure. Still worried. Where had her earlier confidence gone?

"Maybe you were right," she whispered. "Maybe we should just leave. We got the medicine. You got the bandage from that guy, Finn, right?"

He nodded, then smiled at her mildly. Of course he could see right through her, and she sighed, a small smile forming on her features, too. As she gently touched the sleeve of his weapon-arm, peeking underneath to get a glimpse of the shiny fabric of the bandage, she quietly continued, "Hopefully this will help push back your… infection, or whatever it is. And if it's not a cure, we'll go to someone who can help us find one. Somewhere else..."

He shook his head, a strange mixture of sadness and hope in his features that gave her pause.

"You need more than just medicine. They have a doctor, Clarke. Let's get you checked. You need rest, a real bed."

"You didn't get any of that when you needed it."

Bellamy grimaced at her briefly. "I'm different than you are. This," he indicated his arm, "often makes things freaking hard and painful. But it does help with resilience, too."

Clarke made a face, but nodded, believing him. Any other person dealing with that constant amount of pain would have probably long succumbed and keeled over. Still, she didn't want to hear it. Not when she was desperately trying to hold on to what she had with him, a quiet peaceful time with just the two of them. Now that they had grown into something more than enemies. Had grown to love each other. She wanted that. She didn't want other people.

He swiped a strand of her hair back, then extended a hand gallantly as if asking her to the ball. "Come on, princess. Let's get you over there."

She pressed her lips together, not happy at all. A shiver raked through her that had nothing to do with the cold.

"In case it wasn't obvious, I really had a change of heart." She glared at him, but he merely kept on smiling at her.

"I know. And I wish we could do what you said: stay away from other people. Go somewhere nice, just you and me, far away from the freaking war and all the drama out there. But-"

"Why does there always have to be a 'but?'" Clarke interrupted him, stifling a moan as Bellamy gently helped her to her feet. She sunk against him, needing his support to even stay standing. "This sucks," she muttered, allowing him to pick her up and carry her to the horse. "Fine, I get it. _I_ was the one suggesting finding help first so I gotta stick with it now, huh?"

"You were right, Clarke. Right and smart. We can't ignore the world out there. There are more people like us that are tired of the war. We can't stick our heads in the," he looked around, rolling his eyes, "snow. - Freaking snow…" He trailed off, getting derailed by the blanket of icy white around them. He earned himself a chuckle that Clarke immediately regretted because it aggravated her injury. She grimaced unhappily.

"Not even laughing is fun anymore." She looked at him, upset, and he gave her an unexpected kiss.

"We'll make it fun again. Hopefully sooner rather than later." He smirked at her rather suggestively, making her raise her eyebrows, grinning. "Oh ya?"

His expression had changed into a softer smile, before he averted his gaze without a real reply.

"Come on, let's get going," he muttered, then quickly put their things together and untethered their horses. The night was still young and Clarke felt her anticipation and anxiety rise at equal levels. A bed would be nice, somewhere warmer would be amazing - not just for her… And sleeping somewhere where they might have potential allies would make for a more relaxed night.

Hopefully they could really trust those people.

* * *

…

They had to leave their horses in a nearby barn, a detail that made Clarke slightly nervous. What if they needed to flee again? But there was no time for her to dwell on those thoughts as they had to make their way over to a building with a Red Cross above it that Bellamy had mentioned to her before.

She would finally meet his friend, the mysterious Raven... She bit the inside of her cheek, trying to not let jealousy get the better of her, and she noticed Bellamy's eyes on her as she did.

"What?" she asked, defiance in her tone, as if he had challenged her, but he merely smiled at her, then pulled her closer, carefully avoiding her injury.

"I told you before, she is just an old friend. No need for jealousy. She's not my Wells," he added, grinning wider, and she slapped him lightly, slightly annoyed.

"I'm over that," she grumbled and felt him kiss her temple.

"I'm just teasing."

Clarke made a face, but if she was being honest, she liked the way he played with her, joked with her. She had never really had that before, the strange intimacy that came with their banter; it was a welcome surprise.

They had almost reached the dark building with its barely lit windows when they saw two silhouettes approaching them from further down the road. Clarke felt Bellamy stop and tense, putting a protective arm around her, and she froze, too.

"Bellamy?" It was a female voice, and Clarke felt Bellamy breathe easier again. _Raven_ , he let her know, then they continued walking over toward the cross, meeting the other two people half way.

"Raven, meet Clarke. Clarke, this is my old friend Raven."

"Old?" the girl teased, slapping his shoulder playfully, grinning wide at him, then at Clarke. Her expression softened into a warm smile, and Clarke was surprised by how much she liked the other girl without even knowing her. But she was Bellamy's friend, and she guessed that counted for something. Especially since he didn't seem to have many people in his life. She extended an arm just as Raven did and they shook hands carefully, guardedly.

"I can't believe Bellamy Blake finally found himself a girl - or I guess," she added, winking at Clarke, "You found _him_ …"

"Or it was fate…" Clarke suggested, trying to grin. She felt a little awkward, but had to smile anyway.

The brunette beamed. "To fate then! - But now let's get you inside. I just went to get Doc here," she pointed, finally introducing her quiet companion, a frumpily dressed woman with a few strands of wild brown hair poking out from under a hood and a large scarf that obscured most of her face, "She's gonna take a look at your injury."

The woman stayed eerily quiet, still as a rod, a strange tension emanating from her that the other three quickly picked up on. Bellamy and Clarke exchanged a glance, and Raven cocked her head, scrutinizing her companion curiously.

"You alright there, Doc?"

The other woman suddenly extended her hands, gently touching Clarke's face. She flinched away in confusion, but then a bit of light caught the doctor's eyes and Clarke gasped in recognition.

"Mom?!"

She felt like her legs were about to give out. It couldn't be. Her mom was dead. She had to be... Abby Griffin would have died shortly after her husband's death. It was nature's way.

Bellamy gave Clarke a confused look, frowning at her concernedly, then looking over at the doc. "What?!"

"Clarke." The doctor's hoarse voice sounded like she rarely used it to speak anymore. Going by Raven's wide-eyed stare that really was the case. But all Clarke could think was that it was her mother's voice.

The woman slowly pushed back her hood and scarf, revealing Abby's slightly aged if still handsome face.

"Mom, how..."

They both fell into each other's arms, clinging to each other with such fierce and desperate love as if they both feared the moment could be over all too soon, leaving them with the realization that it was all just a dream.

Before Clarke got the chance to ask any of the questions that whirled in her jumbled brain, her legs abruptly gave out and she blinked hard to not lose consciousness as she gasped out with a sudden surge of fresh pain.

"Clarke." Bellamy quickly took over, jumping to her side to carry most of her weight for her, exchanging a brief glance with her mom, who quickly motioned over to the door of the Red Cross.

"Let's get her in here," she said, now almost sounding like the all-business doctor she had once been, and even in her foggy brain, Clarke noticed it, and it made her feel a little better. She tried to walk on her own, shrugging Bellamy off. She didn't want him to feel like he had to carry her again. She knew the strain on his arm had been rough in the past. Even with the new bandage, she still didn't want him to overexert himself yet again.

But when he half forced her to lay an arm around his neck, she didn't fight it, and was glad about his help. When Raven pushed open the door and walked in before them, holding it open, Clarke blinked drowsily against the light, even though it was probably quite dim in there. She felt strangely distant from everything, as if this all was happening to someone else.

"Over here," Abby ordered, pointing over to a small row of beds toward the back of the far wall in a narrow and long looking room to their side.

Bellamy nodded and tried to walk Clarke into the room, but she was suddenly rooted to the spot, staring at a small group of people sitting across from her, all huddled together and staring right back at her. Subconsciously, she pressed a hand against her smarting side, then she felt Bellamy's gentle tug.

"You alright?"

"I…" She faltered, not sure anymore. Was she alright?

"Clarke?"

She heard his voice as if through molasses. She wanted to say something, convey something, but she couldn't. Her brain felt stuffy and sticky. Sluggish.

 _Are we really safe here? s_ he tried asking, but she wasn't sure whether she was actually managing to communicate it through her barriers or not.

* * *

…

Bellamy tried saying her name again, worry marring his features. He tightened his grip on her, ignoring whatever Raven was saying to him. Or that woman, the doc, Clarke's mother...

"Clarke?" he repeated just as she suddenly gave a small moan and collapsed right in his arms, and he berated himself for not having picked her up minutes ago. For even having allowed her to walk on her own, stubborn little Golden that she was.

"Right there," Abby pointed, and he carefully carried Clarke further into the dark room and closed his eyes briefly as a light was turned on in there and more people walked into the room, trying to help. He was unwilling to let her go, but when Abby's soft warm face appeared right in front of his and her earlier grumpy grumble was suddenly replaced by a warm smile and calming low tone, he did as she told him. He laid Clarke down on one of the beds, but he wasn't going to leave her side.

He watched as Abby carefully and methodically undressed Clarke enough to get a good look at her wound, giving orders left and right as she did.

Someone brought over a bucket full of hot water, another one a big satchel that made Bellamy's stomach revolt because it looked too much like Murphy's had. Without thinking, he suddenly grabbed the doctor's arm, hard, making the woman look up at him, startled and angry.

"What are you doing?!" She glared at him angrily, and he glared right back.

"What's in that bag?" The words came out as a hiss, demanding, threatening. He didn't back down. But neither did she. For a long moment, their gazes locked on each other, neither of them flickering. He wasn't going to let anyone harm Clarke, certainly not her own mother. His heart was beating all the way up to his throat. Suddenly Raven gently put her hand on his shoulder, making him flinch involuntarily at her touch, but he still didn't avert his eyes from Abby's face.

"Doc's a friend, Bellamy. She's here to help. Her stuff is in there."

"My instruments," Abby guardedly explained, "scalpel, stethoscope…. antiseptics, saline solution, medication…" She sounded level, calm. She shot a glance at Raven, who shrugged at her, eyebrows raised apologetically. She returned her focus to Bellamy. "Clarke is my daughter. I'm not going to harm her. - Let me help her. Please."

Something shifted in him then. He took a heaving breath, still staring at the doctor, gauging her.

"I don't know what you've… experienced," Abby pointedly noted, touching a nerve, "but I am a doctor. I don't hurt people purposely."

Finally, Bellamy closed his eyes and forced himself to let go, stepping aside a little more to allow Abby to continue her work. Rubbing over the back of his neck, he watched, tired and exhausted. "I'm sorry," he muttered, seeing Raven give him a concerned look as he raised his head again.

"What have they done to you?" she whispered, but the darkness in his eyes would have to be answer enough for he wasn't going to divulge the horrors of the past. There were just too many. And the Golden torture really just was the cherry on top.

* * *

…

Abby had examined, then cleaned Clarke's shot wound thoroughly, even administering a few stitches to keep it neat. She had put a patch of gauze over it and bandaged it all up tightly, making sure it would stay dry and clean, hoping to kill off the beginnings of an infection her daughter had shown.

Wiping her forehead with the back of her hand, she eventually came over to where Bellamy and Raven were waiting.

"She'll be fine," she told them with a sigh, assessing Bellamy as she said it. The kid looked exhausted, deathly pale. He had been traveling with Clarke, that much she had learned. But how her daughter had ended up with a Silveren by her side - with Octavia Blake's brother to boot, that part remained a mystery.

"You should lay down, too," she mildly said, smiling a small smile that earned her an eye roll. As stubborn and hardheaded as his sister, then, it dawned on her. Of course. At least that meant he had been a good match for her daughter. "You need rest. - Unless you'd allow me to have a look at you first. I take it you got injured too," she added, giving him a knowing look.

"I'm fine. Thanks," he deflected, rubbing his eyes, looking like he would soon collapse from exhaustion himself.

"You know… I've dealt with Eternals before." Abby smirked, pointing over to where Raven had retreated to sit with the others. With Finn, who had returned mere minutes ago. "He's just _one_ of them. You guys pass through here a lot. And you get injured a lot…"

He grimaced. "I know. Clarke mentioned... uh... how her dad got killed..."

Abby pursed her mouth. It was a memory she didn't like to revisit, but she knew she would have to, soon enough. Clarke would have questions. Her mother was supposed to be dead after all. She settled on a sad smile for the time being. Thankfully, the kid left it be.

...

Bellamy tried to keep his eyes open, to keep pretending he was as fine as he wanted her to believe, but he was so tired. Abby could probably see right through it.

Suddenly, Abby's expression sobered, and she leaned in a little more. "To be quite honest," she began, almost wistfully, "all of us out here have once come from one side or the other. Golden, Silveren… Often decades ago, that's how long the world has been screwed up." She exhaled deeply, staring right through him, and he had a strange sense of foreboding even before she continued. "I'm… the reason I came out here," she chuckled unhappily, "was to get away from the Eternals and the weapons and…"

"What about Clarke?" he interjected, mostly because he felt like he had to say something on behalf of his bond-partner. Clarke had believed her mother was dead, after all. What kind of person would allow their own daughter to think that? Then again, with his own sad excuse of a mother, he wasn't exactly in a position to judge Abby. Still, he wanted her to go away; and he really wanted to give in to the exhaustion and rest his eyes for a minute. Just a minute… If only she would stop talking. "She thought you were dead."

Her mom made a face. "I'll talk to her once she's up. All I've done was to try and protect her." She took a deep breath. "I've done _this_ ," she then muttered, letting a hand hover over his arm briefly. her fingers moving almost tenderly above it, and his guard went back up immediately, alarm making his senses return to being alert as he pulled his arm closer, away from her. She had turned soldiers into Eternals? Had cut people like him?! How...

Her eyes wandered up to his face, intense eyes with a weird glow to them, and he frowned at her, wary. What she said didn't make the slightest bit of sense. She was a Golden. She wouldn't have access to that kind of technology. She wouldn't...

"You're not Silveren." He was too shocked to get more words out. Had she really been that kind of "doctor?" And when was that? Before Clarke's birth?

She huffed, slowly getting up. "I'm sorry, I don't know why I'm telling you this. Maybe so that you'll know I'm being sincere. I've hurt people like you on orders, and I won't ever hurt anyone willingly again. Friend or foe, I don't care. I'm sure I've scared you off enough with this awkward confession, but if you'd still let me, I could just take a quick look. I promise I won't do anything else. Just see what's going on. The… blaze is spreading, no?"

Freaking Raven. He clenched his teeth, anger growing. His friend must have told the doc. He glared over to where she was sitting with Finn and the others now, and she caught his gaze, mouthing an "I'm sorry."

As if Abby had read his mind, she smiled at him mildly and said, "Don't worry, it's not that obvious. I just… happen to know a thing or two about these things, obviously. Started out in the Department, and as reluctant as I am to admit it, I administered a fair amount of these wounds on the arms of people just like you. But then," she trailed off, leaving it at that, and somehow, Bellamy didn't have the strength to ask her to continue. He didn't want to know. He just didn't want to be reminded.

"Doc?"

They both turned their heads toward the door, where Raven's head appeared, a worried frown on her face. "Can you come out here for a minute?"

Clarke's mom nodded, slowly preparing to leave.

"Bellamy here was going to try and lay down anyway. Right?" she said, and Raven raised an eyebrow.

"Really? And did he let you check on him?"

The doctor shook her head and Raven nodded simultaneously. She had already known the answer. "He's stubborn," she acknowledged, "let's give him some time. But come morning," she turned her attention to Bellamy," you _will_ let her check on you. Alright?"

He gave a half nod, though he had no such intention. They all knew that, too.

Abby got up, checking on a sleeping Clarke one last time, gently laying a hand on her forehead. Then, finally, the two women left them both alone, and Bellamy waited in the dark a little while longer, watching Clarke breathe until the pull of sleep got too strong and he felt himself succumb.

He tried fighting the spiral dragging him into unconsciousness, but it got harder and harder, until he simply couldn't do it anymore. He let go of Clarke's hand, which he had been holding up until that point. Then he let himself sink down on the bed right next to her, as suddenly a wall seemed to open up in his exhausted brain and a flood of images and feelings spilled over that were so foreign and so powerful that he couldn't seem to begin to process them, had to let them wash over him, drown him.

They were Clarke's.

That couldn't be good, he thought, before he couldn't think anymore.


	18. Deepest Sleep

...

It was almost pitch black outside when Raven finally met up with Bellamy's younger sister Octavia. She had sent Miller, one of her best men, to go find her seeing as he had good connections to the other people who were part of their elaborate guarding system.

The settlement was vulnerable, far in the Outskirts, always in danger of being overrun. By soldiers from either side, marauders, or the large forests looming in the distance, so a guard had been the first thing Raven and her people had established back when they had first set up camp there.

And Octavia... she had been the first to volunteer, the first to get lost in the woods, too. The first to come back from there with her head still attached and a new boyfriend in tow.

Raven shook her head. Little Blake was a bit of a mystery to her. She had been slightly annoyed when the Captain had put her daughter on Raven's team. She had felt obliged to protect the younger, inexperienced girl; and then Octavia had shown them all that she was a force to be reckoned with.

Now here that force was, standing not a foot away from Raven, her sword still slung over her back, her face shiny and dirty, her dark braids in disarray from her latest ventures out into the forest with Lincoln, who was always by her side these days.

"He's really here?" Octavia was staring at Raven, frozen to the spot. Her clothes, her whole attire was soiled from whatever fights she had fought out there. Again. Raven sighed and nodded.

"You wanna go in and see him?"

The girl was still just staring, but Raven could see something work in her. The Blake siblings hadn't seen each other for months. Now Raven had just told Bellamy's little sister that he was at the Red Cross, that he was _here_ , in their settlement, and that he was in what the doc had called a concerningly deep sleep.

"Octavia?"

The dark haired girl turned her gaze to the side eventually, shoulders slumping. She still had her hand almost protectively on the pommel of her sword. Her breaths came out with a hissing noise.

"I..."

"It's okay. He'll be okay." Raven didn't know whether that was true at all, but she had to tell Octavia something. The girl had just gotten back from a scouting mission, reporting back that something was going on over the hills, past the forest. People were headed their way, more than usual. Too many to get close to them and find out what exactly they were doing in the area. They all hoped those people weren't coming for the deserters, but now that Bellamy and his Golden were there, it became more and more likely that they were the reason for the sudden accumulation of military forces that far into the Neutral Zone.

"Come on." Raven put a soothing hand on Octavia's shoulder. She exchanged a look with Lincoln, who nodded, ready to wait outside for the time being.

"I'm here if you need me," he whispered to Octavia and she grimaced at him. Then Raven gently steered her inside and toward the sick bay room.

* * *

...

Octavia's mouth felt dry. She blinked hard as she walked into the room and saw Bellamy lying in one of Doc's beds. Only a few weeks ago, she had sat right there, holding Lincoln's hand, hoping against hope that he would survive the garish wound the forest folks had inflicted when he had been on what had been supposed to be nothing but a routine food run.

The thing was, of course, that nothing was routine in the Neutral Zone, especially not when it came to a disgraced forester entering his people's territory to get food for who they considered an enemy and a threat. Thankfully, Abby had worked her usual magic and Lincoln, resilient as he was, was already almost back to normal. Octavia sniffed, forcing herself to focus on the room.

There he was. Bellamy. He looked so pale. She slowly walked all the way across the room until she stood right by his side, looking down on his prone form with the same fierce love she had always felt. They didn't always see eye to eye. They fought a lot. But she would always love him, just as much as he loved her. Nothing could change that. Not even...

"Oh Bellamy." She sniffled, wiping her nose with her hand before she finally bent down to wrap him in her arms, burying her face against him. Quiet tears fell down her cheeks and soaked into his shirt, before she finally re-emerged, looking furtively across the room. She briefly glanced over to the girl her brother had apparently brought with him, still perplexed at learning the rumors were true. Her brother was bonded to a Golden, quite a pretty one at that.

What was she supposed to do? What if Bellamy wouldn't wake up? Living without him had worked as long as she could tell herself that he was somewhere out there, fighting that fight they had angrily disagreed about the last time they had seen each other. But if he died?

No. It couldn't happen. Abby had to save him. Or Octavia would have to do it. She wasn't going to lose him.

* * *

...

* * *

...

It was hot, stiflingly so. She would forever remember how the sweat of fear and heat mixed as she was laying on her stomach under the porch, waiting. She was trying so hard to be quiet, to be invisible, but her heart was beating too fast in her chest, and she could hear it in her ears as loud as if it was outside of her.

"Please. We are just farmers now. We are not fighting in this war anymore, on any side. We just want to live quietly and peacefully…"

Her father's voice broke off abruptly, and she heard a squelching noise and a scream. Two. One was her mother, one her father.

She saw blazing silvery light erupt on his body where the tall Eternal had sunk his weapon into him from behind, his back splitting open so easily it was almost surreal.

"Is there anyone else here?" someone was asking, and panicking, Clarke bit into her hand so hard that she tasted the copper of her blood and the dirt she had crawled through to get down to where she was hiding.

Later, she would sometimes feel like a coward for having hidden, for not having tried to intervene. For not having done anything against those Silveren soldiers. Although deep down, of course, she knew she would have died if she had.

Right then, in the moment, however, all she felt was an all encompassing terror that wouldn't even let her think.

She saw the Eternal drag her father away, back up to the house. "Want to take a look? You did this. You!" he snarled at her mom, and she heard someone shove her mother down, heard the whimpers coming from her, caught her eye as she was looking up and her mother looking down through the planks of the porch. It was just a second. A smile. A strange alien expression on her mom's face, half insane with pain and terror, but also so full of love and… relief, because her daughter had not been detected. They wouldn't find her. They wouldn't.

…

The terror stayed with her for so long. It took forever until she was able to go outside again. For a long time there was just Wells, and his family, taking care of her as she stared blankly out the window at their city home.

The terror dissipated eventually. During the day. To return at night.

She would forever return to her hideout under the porch, would forever see her dad's blood dripping through the cracks. The pain in her hand, nothing compared to that of her parents…

…

Her mom's eyes suddenly dulled, the life seemingly seeping out of them as someone started beating her, just beating and beating and beating, until the dry sounds took on a wet quality, until her blood dripped down on her daughter, too.

It was too much. No one should ever have to see that. No one could ever live through that. But she did. She had. So much pain… She wasn't sure it was her own. Whether it was in her body or her mind.

There was the pond, too, and the rain. The tryouts. Bloodied fingertips. A face, a mop of unruly dark hair. And pain. Always always pain and terror and…

Fear.

* * *

…

* * *

...

"This is not good."

Abby glared at Raven as if any of this was her fault, which of course it wasn't. Raven crossed her arms defensively, huffing out in exasperation before worry took over again. She knew better than to challenge or berate the Doc for her tone, however. But she did exchange a glance with an absent looking Octavia, who worriedly stood to the side, gnawing on a finger. She was leaning against the door post, looking into the room, watching as the woman they had only known as Abby or Doc gently laid Bellamy's arm back down after having examined it.

Raven was still trying to process the fact that Clarke was Abby's daughter.

"Have you seen something like this before?" she asked in a demanding tone, now looking at Finn, who had appeared next to Raven because Abby had called for him. She stared at him, waving a hand over Bellamy's arm. "Have you?" she repeated in an almost venomous tone, taking a few steps toward him until she stood just a few inches away, making Finn flinch involuntarily, and he quickly replied with a jerk of his head.

"Not to that extent, no," he muttered, "I've seen it spread to a little above here," he gestured, indicating an imaginary line right across the biceps, and Abby nodded at him absently, as if her interest in him had suddenly dissipated.

"And it went away?"

"Eventually. Poor guy had to carry his weapon 24/7 for a long time, but yeah..." He trailed off. He looked at Raven as if for back up, and she shrugged at him, roping her arm through his for comfort.

"Really not good, then." Abby pressed her lips together, and Raven shifted uncomfortably from one foot to the next. If the one person she knew that had real experience with Eternal weapons and wounds and the whole weird magic behind them thought this was not good, it was definitely bad.

"Do something about it, then!" Octavia suddenly demanded angrily, and Abby laid a hand on her arm briefly, making the girl jolt back.

"I'm trying to," Abby said calmly, Octavia's dark stare boring into her.

"Trying is not enough." Bellamy's sister swallowed hard and the doctor grimaced at her.

"Why don't you and Lincoln go home for a bit. You haven't slept all night." She exchanged a glance with the man, who had popped his head in just a little before, then she added, "I promise I'll send for you as soon as anything changes."

It was obvious that Octavia wanted to argue, but then Lincoln leaned into her, quietly whispering something, and with a huff, she suddenly rushed out the door, followed by her stoic looking boyfriend.

Raven bit her lip. She would have to check on her again later. She sighed. Octavia was a piece of work. An upset Octavia was insufferable. Returning her attention to Abby, she carefully said, "It didn't look like that when he showed it to us yesterday." Her voice sounded like a croak, and she grimaced.

"Well, seeing as his bond-partner is fighting with a growing infection," Abby shot at her, absently rubbing her gloved hands. "I'd wager a daring guess and say the two are correlated."

Raven rolled her eyes at the other woman's tone, but didn't say anything when she felt Finn's breath against her ear. "She's worried about her daughter," he whispered, nodding over to where Clarke lay as if asleep, her hair a halo around her pale face. "She's out of her element."

She knew it was true. She didn't know Abby at all. None of them did. The fact that she was apparently a Golden that had once - under whatever mysterious circumstances - created Eternal soldiers was a fact Raven couldn't wrap her head around yet. Finn beside her grew more tense. She knew that ever since they had learned about that part of Abby's past, he didn't like to spend too much time in close proximity with the Doc and she tried to focus back on the here and now, smiling at him briefly.

"Can we do anything for either of them?" she asked.

Abby had turned her back on Bellamy by then and was busy checking Clarke's temperature, gently sweeping stray hairs out of the girl's face before she went on to redress her wound. From where she stood, Raven could see an angry red line around it and she grimaced as if she, too, could feel the pain from it.

"I'm trying my best to get this infection to go down again. The antibiotics should hopefully be kicking in soon. I can't do much else other than keep the wound clean and the drugs coming." Abby sighed. "It's probably best that she is still out. But what worries me is their connection and the fact that I can't be sure who is causing whose unconsciousness here."

"So we can only wait and hope for the best? Is that it?" Raven didn't like that prospect at all. When she had allowed Bellamy to bring his Golden girlfriend over, she had hoped to win them over to reinforce their defenses. Instead, he and Clarke were taking over a lot of Abby's time now, and they were no help at all.

But who was she kidding. She didn't care about that. She was worried about him. And even about this poor girl that she barely knew. If Bellamy liked her, then she was good for him. And he needed something good. Something he had never had.

"I could let him carry my weapon whenever I can spare it," Finn suddenly suggested, making Raven look at him. He returned her gaze with a shrug, trying to smile. "I only need it for when we do our rounds, and to... _recharge_ ," he stressed the word awkwardly, "every once in a while."

But Abby shook her head. "Like you said, anything other than 24/7 is probably not gonna begin to cut it, anyways. And I'd rather not have to deal with two of you in such a state."

"You sure? I don't foresee us just finding a weapon for him that quickly..."

Abby and Finn exchanged a glance that Raven watched with renewed worry. They would have to try and find a weapon. Somehow...

She bit her lip, then pushed herself off the doorpost. "Let me know if I can do anything," she said, making up her mind, "Until then, Finn and I will go check the perimeter. Whoever these two ran into, they may be coming looking for them…"

With that, she nodded to her boyfriend and he followed her out, leaving the doc to deal with her patients.

* * *

…

* * *

...

His mind was overrun. It was too much too much too much too...

No space for his own thoughts, memories just spilled over and out and away, then came back at him with such force that it felt like he was reliving them all at the same time. But not just his own. Hers. Always hers, too.

"I want it done. He doesn't deserve different treatment just because he is my son."

"Ma'am, but you _are_ treating him differently if you let me incise his arm right now. He's not of the right age yet, not ready, and, need I remind you that he's not-"

"It'll be a symbol. _He_ will be a symbol…"

 _I don't want to be a fucking symbol. I don't want this I don't want this. I don't..._

 _Stop_!

...

"You don't know what you're talking about, Clarke." A warm sad voice. Defeated. Tired. "All we ever wanted was for you to live in peace. Away from the craziness. The Outskirts are your home. Our home. The Neutral Zone needs all the protection it can get. It's our hope. Our future. - Farming is not such a bad-"

"You're wasting your bond communicating about crops and rain and… when you could be out there, helping them _end_ that war that you pretend to be so weary of."

"You'll understand it when you have your own kids."

"Who says I want to ever have any?! In a world like this?! You shouldn't have had me either. I don't want any part of it. I don't want to shrivel away on a farm, I want to be out there! Doing something of importance-"

" _Enough_!" A female voice. Loud, cold and terrifying. Terror. Panic. This was not her mom.

It was _his_ …

* * *

…

* * *

...

"Come on, Clarke. Open your eyes. Just a little bit. I know you're in there." A pause. "I think he really loves you, you know? I could see it in his whole demeanor. In his eyes. He always looked so sad before. Shut off from everyone but Octavia. But with you… He's different." Raven thought for a moment. "He's also difficult." She chuckled, gently taking Clarke's hand in hers. She paused for a long moment, just holding it. She didn't know why she was doing it, she didn't even know the girl. Maybe it was just easier to talk with her instead of only ever facing her unconscious friend in the adjacent bed.

"You are good for him. I hope he is good for you, too." She sighed, sadness overtaking her again. "I wish we could do something for you."

Raven fell silent, suddenly feeling stupid for having talked. She wasn't sure how much - if anything - the girl heard, so she wasn't sure what all she could divulge. She had kept it vague. Not like she had all that much to say anyways. So she mostly talked about herself. No harm in that, right?

It had been five full days, almost a week, and neither Bellamy nor Clarke had woken up from their strange sleep or unconsciousness or whatever it was. There had been a dip, once, a dangerously spiking fever on Clarke's part, and for a moment there they had all thought they would lose them both, but then the fever had broken - Abby had shoved Clarke into the snow outside for as long as she felt her daughter could tolerate it - and it had finally all gone uphill from there.

The infection had let up. The girl was doing better and better. Still, something kept her from waking up and it was dawning on them all that it was Bellamy. She might have been the one to pull them both under, but he was the one keeping them there. If only they could somehow get one of them - both of them - to wake up.

"Wake up, Clarke. Please! We could really use some help." Raven sighed, shooting for complete honesty. "There's people coming, Octavia spotted them on her last run. We think they're coming for you. And they will be here soon."

* * *

…

* * *

...

Hitting. Kicking. Something long. Like a whip. A… riding crop. A back splitting open (whose?). Skin coming apart. Blood.

Blazing light; and pain. Always that.

Her father. Her mother. His...

A silvery oozing wound. Terror. Always more pain. Then… suddenly, startlingly...

Love.

* * *

…

* * *

...

Clarke gasped, a small sound, shuddering. Slowly, she opened her eyes. Her vision was clear. So surprisingly, startlingly clear. She tried to sit up abruptly, suddenly feeling a gentle but insistent hand keep her from doing so.

"Hey there."

Raven beamed at her with such genuine warmth that, for a moment, Clarke was sure she had always known her. A friend. Her friend.

Then she remembered, and with a jerk of her head, she looked to the side, to him. "Bellamy," she breathed, her voice dark and dreamy from lack of use, and she felt her heart brim over with so much unexpected love that she almost started crying. How had that feeling survived in her after everything? How was she still capable of it? But it didn't matter. All that mattered was that she loved him. She truly did.

"Is he alright? What happened to him?"

"You, I'm afraid," Raven whispered. Her face was scrunched up, tears in her eyes, but she was smiling. Clarke tried to sit up again, slower this time , but the other girl still held her back.

"Let Abby check on you first. Take it easy."

So it was true. It hadn't just been her feverish brain that had brought Abby Griffin back to life. Her mom was not a figment of her imagination. She was really still alive. But how?

"Where is she? Where's my mom?" Clarke implored Raven, then her gaze fell on Bellamy again, who was laying eerily still in the bed right by her side. Clarke stared wildly from him to Raven, then back. Suddenly she knew why there had been such a jumbled mess in her head. They had merged almost completely when she was out, because he had been unconscious, too. Raven's hands on her arms held her firmly in place, keeping her from fighting her way up.

"He'll hopefully wake up soon, too, okay? If - and that's a big if - you manage to slow down a bit and take. Your. Time."

Finally it sank in; Clarke had gotten the message. She gave a small unhappy nod, feeling Raven's grip on her ease a little.

"I'm glad you're back," the girl said. "Which probably sounds ridiculous to you, because you don't even know me but-"

"You two went to the academy together. He was your only friend for a while there," Clarke whispered, nodding, seeing shock flicker in the other girl's eyes.

"How much else have you heard?"

Clarke smiled absently. She was so tired. Looking to the side again, to Bellamy, his dark hair a stark contrast to the pillow he was laying on, she extended her arm until she could reach him, if barely. Her fingers merely grazed his hand, but it was enough. She felt instantly calmer.

"I think I know you pretty well now, Raven Reyes," she muttered, smiling. Then she closed her eyes briefly, opening them to face Bellamy. All those feelings...

 _It's time to wake up, Bellamy. Please, come back to me. Come back. I need you._


	19. Old One

...

When Bellamy Blake was five years old, his happy childhood seemingly ended all at once one foggy morning, when the gloomy light of the half obscured sun shone into his room and woke him up an hour or so early. He quickly got up, as children often will, because they don't fear the days and its tasks the way adults do, and he made his way over to his mother's bedroom, which lay just across the hallway.

He had barely felt his bare foot hit the cool floor outside his carpeted room, when he heard muffled voices, or grunts. They almost didn't sound human, but what else could they be? The Deformed, in his house? No, those were just creatures from the songs his mother sang to him, they were not real. The sounds coming from her room, however, sounded very real.

Anxiously, he tiptoed closer to his mom's door, until his small fingers touched the handle.

"Mommy?" he called out in a quiet voice, but nobody answered. She could probably not hear him over the weird noises. So he carefully opened the door, just a sliver, and peeked inside.

His mom was lying on her bed, entangled with a tall dark man who held her down too roughly, or at least it looked like that to Bellamy.

"Mommy!" He yelled it out now, rushing to try and get the stranger off her, and the man angrily turned around and shoved him away, so hard he toppled to the floor, lip smarting where he had been hit.

"Leave him alone!" His mom was struggling to get up, the man pushing her back on the bed, angrier than before.

"If you keep fighting, I'll take him with me," he hissed, and Aurora suddenly froze, pleading, all fight leaving her.

"I'll do what you want, just don't hurt him."

Hurt him? Bellamy was confused, panicked, completely lost. What was going on? His mother wasn't wearing any clothes, he could see her naked skin, dark marks had appeared on it, around her arms, but elsewhere, too. It didn't look at all like she wanted to do what they were doing.

"Close your eyes, boy, or leave. Daddy is almost done."

Daddy?

"You're not my daddy. I don't have one."

The man turned to face him briefly. "I tend to agree, just look at you, weak and so… Silveren. There's not a trace of me visible. But technically…" He trailed off, resuming his task, while Aurora implored her son with wide fearful eyes to stay quiet, or better yet, to leave. But he couldn't do that. He couldn't leave his mother. The man had deeply disturbed him with his strange revelation. But despite everything he had said, Bellamy didn't believe for a second that anything good would come of it if he just left.

So he slowly got up, searching the room for anything he could use as a weapon. His gaze fell on a small lantern by the side of the door, and he quickly grabbed it, raced over to the bed and hit the stranger over the head. The man collapsed for a split second, his mother yelled, "Bellamy, no!" Then the man got up so abruptly that Bellamy fell over and on his back as the man came toward him..

But the man merely bent down until his face was right in front of Bellamy's, and he glared at him with such terrifying anger that he flinched away.

"You'll wish you hadn't done this," he croaked, his voice gone, he was so angry. "I'll make you all pay for this." He stood up straight, pressing his shirt against his now bleeding head, then he picked up his pants and put them on quickly, shooting a scathing glare at Aurora.

"You and your scum, you'll pay. I told you to get rid of him. I told you!" With that he rushed out the door, fuming.

…

Bellamy had expected his mother to come get him, to hug him. He had maybe expected her to be grateful.

Instead, _he_ went over to _her_ , giving her a towel for her bleeding face and a robe to keep the cold from assaulting her naked body.

She merely stared at him for a long long time, before she finally talked.

"He was right. I should have never held on to you. Now we'll all pay."

He didn't understand it at all, least of all her distance toward him from then on out. As if he had done something horribly wrong.

He had only wanted to protect her.

Then, just days later, a troop of Golden soldiers came by their village and decimated its inhabitants until almost everyone was dead, everyone but him and his mom and a mere handful of people. He didn't see the correlation then, but later, later he would finally understand.

It was then that his mother decided to turn him into a weapon of sorts, make him what the Golden feared the most, make him revenge incarnate.

…

Eight months later, he was already a changed boy, defiant, broody, sad, lonely, until his mother shoved a small whining bundle into his arms and said, "She's your responsibility now. Give her a name, I don't care. I don't want to see her. If I do, she'll go. I am not making the same mistake twice."

He ended up calling the baby Octavia, a name he had come across when learning about the old Roman Empire back in the days when his mother had still been loving and caring, and he hoped the powerful name of an emperor would protect his little sister and make her strong enough to weather the horrors of the world and conquer them.

They didn't have a mother anymore to protect them, and they never had a father. But they had each other. Octavia was his everything. She was his hope, and he would take it upon himself to protect her until she was strong enough to fill her name.

* * *

...

* * *

...

After her initial shock upon seeing Bellamy and learning about his dire condition, Octavia had slowly returned to her usual hands-on attitude. Bellamy was on the verge of being lost and she was not going to accept that. The thing was, they had to find him an Eternal Weapon if they wanted to prevent the blazing sheen from taking over and obliterating him completely.

Despite what Abby had said, Octavia had gone back to Finn and persuaded him to lend her brother his weapon. It may not have been enough, but it was still better than just the bandage and they could use all the time they got to find Bellamy his own weapon. Or, since his was lost, they would have to find an ersatz. Easier said than done.

"So, what exactly is your plan?" Raven sat on a horse right next to her, overlooking the thickening forest ahead of them.

Octavia looked to Lincoln on her other side to answer the question, which he calmly did.

"Indra of the forest people," he said cryptically, and Raven glared at him.

"Okay? Is that supposed to tell me anything?"

Lincoln's mildly bemused expression would have made Octavia smile under other circumstances, but she wasn't in the mood. They needed to hurry, not sit and discuss.

"She's a warrior who harbors all kinds of keepsakes from her battleground encounters."

Realization dawned on Raven's face. "Alright. I don't think I want to know more."

"If anyone has an Eternal Weapon lying around, it'll be her. She has the tattoo marking her as an Eternal Slayer," Octavia went on, disregarding Raven's words. The other girl gave her a curious look.

"I didn't know there was a tattoo for that."

"That's because it's so rare. Of all the forest people I've come across, she's the only one with it." Lincoln's face stayed hardened, matter-of-fact, when he relayed that bit of information. To him, it was no surprise that Indra, one of their greatest warriors - if not _the_ greatest - had once slain a Silveren super soldier. Especially now that he had been around one for a while, and had found out that they were not necessarily all the highly trained emotionless killing machines he had grown up to believe they were.

Then again, Finn, whom he had first met when Octavia had brought her little troop of weary war fatigued soldiers to the settlement, didn't seem to be a very typical specimen. The kid was almost too soft, too gentle to have something as dark as the Eternal scar on him.

Lincoln had never met an Eternal before then, not in battle, not anywhere, until Raven Reyes's boyfriend had crossed paths with him. The kid was so different from any of the stereotypes that Octavia hadn't had too much trouble to convince him to leave the younger man alone after their initial meeting hadn't gone so well. Back then, he hadn't even known or suspected yet that Octavia's own brother was an Eternal, too.

He clenched his jaw, glancing over to her. She sat on her horse, erect and ready to charge, dark hair intricately braided out of her face, and he knew he would do whatever it took to help her or those close to her. He didn't even quite know why he felt so immediately and peculiarly attached to her, but he accepted it, and didn't fight it. Maybe his ancestors had been right after all, and there was a soulmate out there for everyone. Lincoln had certainly found his.

* * *

...

It didn't take them long to find Indra. She wasn't exactly hiding from anyone, but proudly and prominently living among her people. The potential problem had been that they didn't know whether she would be there or out somewhere, fighting.

It might have been easier if she had been gone...

"How dare you ask me that?!" the strong and angry looking woman was just saying, glaring at Octavia angrily. But neither of them was one to back down or apologize and Octavia simply moved another step closer until her nose almost touched that of the warrior in front of her.

"Octavia," Lincoln quietly cautioned, holding her back by the arm.

"I need it to keep my brother alive. He's the only family I have left."

Indra raised an eyebrow. "Not what I heard. I heard that Octavia of the Silveren is the Captain's daughter."

Octavia's stony expression was all the answer the other woman got for a long moment, until Lincoln took over, gently pulling his girlfriend back a little.

"We will return it, Indra of the forest people. I give you my word. It won't be used in battle."

"You come here to demand the weapon that killed so many of my people? Of _your_ people? You, who live among them now, sharing your bed with the captain's daughter and your table with one of those blazing abominations?"

Lincoln tried to stay calm and keep himself from gritting his teeth. Octavia put her hand on his arm, letting him know that she was ready to take over again. This was for her brother, and she would take Indra on, if she had to. She wasn't afraid.

She needed that weapon. Bellamy needed it.

"You can come with us, stay by the Weapon's side if you must, but I won't go without it. I can't. He's my brother. I know you understand what family means. Your daughter, Gaia..."

"Do not speak her name!" Indra suddenly seemed furious. But then something abruptly changed in her demeanor, and she grew calmer. Looking down on the ground for a moment, then back at Octavia, the older woman said, "Fine. You may have it. But I _will_ ride with you, and as soon as he is better, I will have it back."

Octavia nodded solemnly, Raven, far in the back, took a shuddering breath, and Lincoln just stared stonily ahead. This had gone better than expected, mostly because for some reason he wasn't the only one who saw something in Octavia Blake.

...

When Indra came back with the weapon and a horse, Octavia took a quick look at the long sword, then at the warrior holding it out to her.

"What?" Indra challenged. "Not what you expected?"

"It's... old." Octavia felt her dry tongue click against the roof of her mouth. This was indeed not what she had expected.

The forest woman cackled briefly, then mounted her horse. "Shall we? Or did you change your mind?"

Octavia wanted to say she had. But what other choice did they have? Bell needed this. It was still better than nothing. So she shook her head, then dug her heels into her horse's flanks and sped off.

* * *

...

* * *

...

She hadn't noticed it when she first came to. But when Abby checked on her, allowing her to slowly sit up, Clarke's eyes eventually fell on the… thing. Her eyes widened in shock, in dismay. She jumped, only her mother's firm grip keeping her from trying to get out of the bed.

"Calm down, Clarke. It's alright."

She glared at her mom. Aside from the fact that Abby Griffin still needed to explain her presence, her being alive, she very definitely also had something else to explain now.

Clarke couldn't help it; even though it was Bellamy next to her, and she knew that it was, she was suddenly repelled by what she saw and felt herself panicking again. Not because she was scared of him per se, but because of that sword-like thing protruding from his arm.

They had given him an Eternal Weapon.

"We had to try everything to get it to stop spreading." Raven appeared in Clarke's field of vision, explaining something to her in a small hushed voice. Clarke gave her a blank stare, not quite comprehending, yet. "The sheen?" Raven reminded her.

Clarke swallowed, allowing herself to lean against Abby for a moment. She spotted a dark haired girl sitting by Bellamy. She hadn't seen her there before, but she looked somewhat familiar. Was this, then, his sister?

She closed her eyes, then blinked to force herself to concentrate. "How bad is it." The question came out as a statement, as if she knew it was going to be bad.

The pain…

"Well, it hasn't spread any further in the last few days." Abby sounded more hopeful than Clarke felt. She slowly got up, stopping Abby's attempt to keep her in bed with one glare. Then she slowly walked the few steps over to Bellamy's other side, touching his arm, his face, concerned about his troubled expression even in unconsciousness.

 _Wake up, Bellamy._

She exchanged a glance with the dark haired girl, carefully extending a hand.

"I'm Clarke," she introduced herself, "You must be Octavia."

The girl gasped quietly, her initial hostile expression softening a little when she, half reluctantly, took the blonde girl's hand. Clarke looked at her warmly, then turned back around to her mom and Raven.

"How far did it spread before…" She didn't dare complete her question, but she didn't have to. It was Abby who answered.

"All the way up his shoulder and his neck. You can see it a little right… here." She pulled down the collar of Bellamy's shirt and Clarke marveled at the silvery tendrils, barely visible but there, sneaking up the left side of his neck. She covered her mouth, worrying her lip behind her fingers.

 _Bellamy_...

"What can we do?"

"We _are_ doing it." To Abby, it was a matter-of-fact type treatment, giving the soldier access to an Eternal Weapon. She looked at her daughter with a shrug. But to Clarke, who had no clue about the intricacies of life as an Eternal, it seemed like an atrocious thing to do. She gave her mother a disapproving glare, then shook her head.

"This?" she said. "This is all we can do? Force him to hold the thing he hates so much?"

"You're assuming he wouldn't want this-"

Clarke interrupted Abby angrily, lifting a hand briefly to cut her off. "I'm not assuming anything. I _know_." She looked over to Octavia, then Raven, expecting them to back her up on this, and they briefly nodded, then looked down, pretending to inspect the ground. She raised her eyebrows at them all.

"And you still let it happen."

Raven swallowed. But it was Octavia, who replied. "We needed to do _something._ He wasn't getting any better. _You_ weren't getting better, and since you decided to invade his mind with that stupid in-life-and-death-bond..."

"Octavia." Abby looked at her mildly, almost motherly. It gave Clarke a weird pang of jealousy.

"What?!" The girl's mouth was distorted into an angry line. She was fuming. "I need some air," she then suddenly announced, stomping out and past Clarke, not without staring daggers at her first. Clarke understood her, though, she really did. To Octavia the mind bond must have seemed like the one thing keeping her brother from waking up. It was easy to blame Clarke for it. The Silveren didn't seem to understand just how the bonding worked. The Golden didn't even have much of an idea themselves.

She shook her head, exhausted from having been up and arguing so shortly after having come out of unconsciousness. Her side was still hurting, too. She needed a break.

"Mom." She took a deep breath, then exhaled slowly, trying to calm herself. "There's gotta be something else. Something better. He wouldn't want this."

She was looking for words, trying to think. But it was hard when she was so exasperated on Bellamy's behalf. What the hell had her mom - had his friend, or even that other Eternal - been thinking? Shouldn't they all know better than to bring that symbol of death and pain anywhere near the people of the settlement, if not Bellamy? "What about the bandage?" she finally asked, grasping for straws. "I thought your… your boyfriend," she was looking at Raven, making the other girl press her lips together, "I thought he gave Bellamy his spare."

"He did. But it's just not the same…" Raven trailed off, hanging her shoulders. "I'm sorry."

Abby came to her aid, taking over before Clarke's annoyed huff could turn into a lecture on friendship and duties, and she walked a step closer, touching her daughter's arm lightly.

"The weapon is designed to fit over the arm like a sleeve," she began explaining calmly, "like it's part of the body. When it's not attached, the body basically treats the arm like it would an open wound. So we put it on, to ease the pain, to make his body as whole as we possibly could. - The bandage can't do that or even begin to achieve it." She sighed, smacking her lips when Clarke tried to say something, but couldn't get anything out. "Believe me, we would have liked to do it another way. But for now we are out of options. There's not much out there on a condition like his, and short of going to the council and the Captain directly, we don't really have any other way of dealing with this for now."

There was a silence in the room, in which they all just stared at each other, waiting, but eventually, Clarke gave the smallest of nods, tracing her fingers over the side of Bellamy's face, smiling a sad smile down on him. She pointedly avoided looking at the weapon on his left arm so as not to channel her horrible memories of when she had last seen one of them from up close.

She swallowed, then quietly asked, "So this is Finn's?"

"Uh…" Raven was stammering, making Clarke frown at her. "Actually, we got this one from somewhere else."

"Somewhere else?"

She didn't get to hear a reply, however, for right then, Bellamy's eyes opened and he stared at her for just a second, wide eyed, before he shot upright so fast that neither she nor her mom or even Raven could hold him back. Clarke almost fell back as the weapon came up with his arm, a blazing silver sword that made her whole body constrict like it was in a vise as memory washed over her.

"Put it down."

Someone had said the words. She wasn't even sure who. Bellamy looked from Raven to Abby, then back to Clarke, confused and breathing too fast.

 _Put your arm down, please. The weapon..._

He looked over to his left arm and froze, just staring for a while.

 _"_ Down. Please... _"_

"It's just temporary, Bellamy," Abby levelly informed him, her gloved hands held away from her body in a calming, pleading gesture. "Please put it down, you don't want to accidentally hurt anyone. Do not take it off, though. It's the only way we can keep the spreading at bay."

They were all looking at him, but he didn't look at any of them, just at the Weapon on his arm. The long shaft of its silvery blade almost tapped against Clarke.

 _Bellamy?_

"No." He abruptly tried pulling at the weapon, working to take it off, but Clarke and Abby both stilled his movements, acutely aware of how close to the weapon they were. The women exchanged a glance, a shared pain and worry silently communicated, and Clarke shivered involuntarily.

She briefly put her other hand over her still tender side, then turned slightly to look at Bellamy. He had started shaking, just a little, a terrible tension in his features, his whole body, that made her ache.

 _We'll find a better solution._ She tried to smile, even though she didn't feel like it; and finally he carefully laid his arm back down, taking a heaving breath as he met her gaze. His eyes were flickering as he tried to smile for her, too, but it was rather lopsided and a bit half-hearted. "You're up," he muttered, and she chuckled.

"So are you."

He was trying to lean in to her, but then froze once more, so close, yet so far. She frowned at him, forgetting the others in the room with them. "What is it?"

"I…" He swallowed, contemplating, looking from her to the others, fixing his gaze on Abby last.

"Welcome back, soldier," she said, and he half flinched at the word. "Sorry about that," Abby indicated the weapon, "but it was our best shot. The blaze has been spreading. No one here has ever seen it do that to such an extent."

His jaw worked. He didn't like this, he didn't want it. They had no idea what they had done.

"I can't have this on me." He sounded cold, determined. Clarke leaned in and cupped his cheek lightly, and it took effort for him to not flinch away. It wasn't because of Clarke...

"Well," Abby pushed a strand of brown hair past her ear and walked closer toward him, still keeping distance between them. She was wary. She had good reason. "I'm afraid it's the only way-"

"What about the bandage?" he interrupted her.

She sighed, sounding tired. "Not as effective, I'm afraid."

He dismissed it immediately. "Whatever," he hissed, "It'll have to do."

"Bellamy. Look at yourself." Abby handed him the metal tray she used to keep some of her things on and angled it so that he could see his neck. She pointed, not daring to touch him now that he was up. She had experience with Eternals, after all, and she probably knew to stay away. He averted his gaze almost immediately, his mouth a thin line.

"It stopped spreading," Clarke breathed against his side, and he looked at her. "It'll be okay."

"I can't freaking run around with a weapon 24/7!" he suddenly blurted out angrily, making Clarke flinch away. She let go of him quickly, and his face fell a little. He had scared her...

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to scare you. I…" he faltered, looking down, burying his head in his now free hand.

 _It's because of me_ , Clarke suddenly realized. It was so clear now that she wondered how she had not caught on to it right away.

 _It symbolizes all you're trying to forget._ Bellamy's expression was troubled _._

She shook her head.

 _I'm not gonna deny that I hate seeing it, hate its mere existence with a passion. And yes, it freaking terrifies me, too. But… if it makes you feel better, if it makes this go away…_

Instead of finishing her communication with him, she simply cupped his face and kissed him, leaning her forehead against his for a brief moment.

 _I don't want to cause you more nightmares. I can't be the reason you have to relive it over and over,_ Bellamy told her unhappily, and she smiled a sad smile.

 _I've had more than I can count. I can suffer through a few more if I must._

He shook his head. _That's the thing, though. You don't have to._

 _Bellamy Blake. You are stubborn! And you forget how this whole bond business works: we are linked. I need you at your strongest, I need you to live and grow old with me. I need you to at least try and get healthy._

She licked her lip, she wanted to say something else. But then they both heard Abby loudly clear her throat and remembered that they were not alone. Bellamy was first to pull back and reemerge into the here and now, though he squeezed Clarke's hand briefly before he returned his attention back to the others.

...

"So, is this Finn's? He'll need it back. He shouldn't be kept from-"

"It's not," Raven piped up, interrupting him. Surprise was evident in Bellamy's face and she cast her eyes down before she quickly explained, "Take a look. You'll see it's an older model. They don't make them like that anymore. We got it from Indra of the forest people. She's waiting outside to meet you." Raven raised an eyebrow. "And I'm sure you'd really rather not meet _her_ …"

She went on, but Bellamy wasn't paying much attention anymore. Instead, he stared down at his arm, at the weapon attached to it, and he bit down hard until his jaw protested. This explained why it had felt so horribly wrong, why he had felt so off.

An Old One... They weren't even supposed to exist anymore. He remembered horror stories from way back when and had to briefly close his eyes to process.

"Where did she get it from." He said it so levelly as if it wasn't a question. His eyes weren't on Raven at all, but still on the weapon. He moved it around with his hand, staring at it. The glove like part of the newer models was missing on this one. Instead, it had an intricate looking wire structure around the hilt that kept the hand in place, pushing the wrist with the silvery scar right against the blade as there was no guard. He was almost surprised that it didn't hurt even more than it did. This one, then, did not feel like a second - if too tight - skin at all, but like a vise around his hand, his lower arm. He had the urge to take it right off, throw it as far away as he could.

But Clarke was right. He couldn't do that. He had to think of her, too, not just himself.

He glared at Raven, trying to avoid the blazing silver sheen of the weapon's metal blade. She still hadn't answered.

"Bellamy, why don't we talk about all this later. You should get some more rest. Clarke, you too," Abby tried, but Clarke grimaced at her and Bellamy was still waiting for an answer from his friend.

"Raven…"

She gave a sigh and threw her hands in the air. Clarke thought it was kind of endearing, or would have been if the situation hadn't been so charged.

"Listen to the Doc. Rest-"

"I want to know where Indra got that weapon from."

"Does it matter?" Raven was suddenly defensive. Wary.

They glared at each other, something unspoken between them, and Clarke began to have a bad feeling about it. Something was going on that she didn't understand. She had sneaked out of Preparation whenever they had taught them in depth about the Eternals, and their weapons. She kind of regretted it now. That knowledge would have come in handy. But she also knew she hadn't been in the right mental state to be able to hear any of it, and she still wasn't. Not really. For Bellamy, she would put up with this horrendous monstrosity, although she didn't quite know how yet. What she really hadn't considered, however, was what she would do if he returned to his duties as an Eternal, a thought that hadn't even occurred to her before.

Would he?

 _No,_ he assured her, then, out loud, addressed the room at large.

"You gave me a freaking Old One, and you ask me whether it matters where it came from?!"

"Bellamy, we needed a weapon that no one was using anymore. One that you could carry all day and all night, potentially for weeks."

He suddenly got up, swaying for a moment on his feet, and Abby sprang forward, trying to persuade him to sit back down, but he glared at her angrily and she stepped away. Clarke could feel him bristle, so angry, so upset, so powerless. He was trapped. He knew they had tried to help, and he knew he had needed it. That didn't mean he had to like it. And he really hated it.

"What's up with the Old Ones?" Clarke wanted to know, sincerely confused, but Bellamy shook his head dismissively.

"Nothing."

Raven raised an eyebrow at him, crossing her arms, then she shot a glance at Clarke, her expression mild and friendly. "Of course Mr. Hothead here would never acknowledge or admit it, but the Old Ones are not exactly… comfortable to wear. Not sure what you know about Eternal Weapons?"

Clarke shook her head ever so lightly and Raven nodded. "Well, they're literally a pain, the older models more so than the new ones. And it… it wears you down. We got rid of the Old Ones, the first ones, pretty quickly once it was discovered. We had them all destroyed, purged away so to speak, because… their bearers would go insane after years of service. They'd sometimes develop a severe killing urge beforehand and…" her voice petered out as she saw the other girl's face.

But Clarke caught herself quickly. "So why did that woman have something that should have been destroyed?"

Raven opened her mouth, but couldn't say anything for a while. She shrugged, feeling awkward. Then, with a small voice, she said, "I didn't ask."

Clarke squinted at her disbelievingly. "You knew all that about the Old Ones and yet made him carry this damn thing?"

"What else were we gonna do, Clarke? Let you and Bellamy die?!"

They stared at each other in silence for a long time, and it was Abby who eventually quietly made a suggestion.

"I guess we are all gonna have to talk to that lady. And then, we'll have to find a better solution." Her voice was strong and determined. She gently put a hand on Clarke's arm, feeling her daughter's gratitude, but also tension. Her girl was bonded to that young man now. She couldn't let anything happen to him. She sighed. It was all less than ideal: that Clarke had returned to her life, that she was linked to an Eternal, that she was as stubborn as she was. But Abby was also grateful. Maybe this was her second chance to be there for her daughter. To do the right thing.

They would have to sit down and talk soon.

What if Clarke wouldn't understand? Wouldn't forgive her? Just like Bellamy was so unwilling to forgive them for doing the tough if right thing for him...


	20. Questions and answers

...

It took a while, but eventually Bellamy calmed down again, and Clarke finally felt like she could leave him alone. He had walked out to meet that warrior woman, Indra of the mysterious forest people. Clarke didn't know anything about them other than that they lived in the forests in the Neutral Zone and didn't adhere to any Golden or Silveren laws or rules. An independent tribe, living hidden away from common civilization for decades. Rumor had it that their lineage could be traced back to way before the Last War had destroyed everything.

Clarke had followed Bellamy, and was watching him now, where he gloomily sat at a table with the angry looking woman, discussing something or other, probably weapon-related, while Raven had set out to go and get his sister to come back. Bellamy had wanted to come, but they had all quickly managed to discourage him from doing so by pointing out that he couldn't very well walk around with an Eternal Weapon on him. Indra had even gotten up and threatened to take it away again if he so much as left the Red Cross building with it.

 _Will you be alright over there? s_ he asked him now and he nodded almost imperceptibly.

 _Fine. You?_

 _Gonna ask my mom why..._ Her thought trailed away from her, consumed by a weird feeling of confusion and uncertainty, a hint of betrayal. But he understood.

 _I'm right here if you need me._

Clarke's smile grew for a moment, then slowly dissipated as she turned around to look at her mother. She sighed, her frown deepening as she felt Bellamy's tired agitation over their link. Then she turned her attention to where her mom was finishing up checking on some of her other patients.

"Do you have a moment?" Clarke asked, leaning against the doorframe, watching, hoping to catch her mom for a quick one-on-one talk.

"Of course." Abby smiled, but her face looked drawn. Clarke figured she had a lot to do in a town where she was the only medical personnel, and where lots of stragglers from elsewhere found themselves at some point or another. Seeing her daughter again must have also stirred something in her. It had certainly unsettled Clarke.

Clarke felt a little awkward. This was her mom. But she hadn't seen her in years, she had been made to believe she was an orphan. Abby's being alive didn't just unhinge Clarke's personal life, it also questioned all knowledge she - and the Golden people - had of how the mental bonds worked. Abby Griffin had somehow defied certain death when her husband had died his horrible death.

With a wave of her hand Abby motioned for her daughter to come in just as her last patient was shaking her hand before finally leaving the room and them alone. Clarke slowly walked back to what would still be her bed at least for another night, or until her mother cleared her completely. Abby was still cleaning up, but nodded.

"I'm almost done. We can already talk. I knew you'd want to..."

Clarke raised an eyebrow at her. Want to? "You were gone for five years, mom. I thought you were dead. You should be. I saw dad's body. He didn't miraculously survive."

Abby sucked in air, exhaling slowly, lifting her head to face Clarke. "I know. It's hard to explain."

"Try." Clarke knew her tone was cold and demanding, but she couldn't help it. She wanted answers, and without knowing her mom's story she didn't have sympathy for her. Abby had left her daughter to believe she was the solitary survivor of her family. At 15, Clarke had pretty much been on her own.

There had better be a damn good reason for it.

Abby's lips were pressed together, a thin pale line where Clarke had seen a battered smile when she had thought she had last seen her mom.

"I never meant for you to be left alone like that, Clarke. You have to believe that all I did was for you, to save your life." She gave her daughter a look, full of love and an unnamed pain, and it held power over Clarke, whether she wanted it or not.

But Wells had also said he had had her best interests at heart. It had ended in him doing the wrong thing. Had Abby made a similar decision? The wrong one for the right reasons?

Clarke eyed her mom warily as she calmly continued, her voice so thin it seemed threatening to break at any moment.

"I'll start at the beginning, since it explains what happened after - and you'll want to know anyway. You heard me say that I had worked for the Silveren?" She waited for a brief nod from Clarke and went on once she had gotten it. "It was before you were born. I was your age, the link to your dad newly established. We were on our first assignment. We thought we had the whole world open ahead of us, the possibilities, the adventures! Then they sent me out to infiltrate the enemy, and chances turned into fear. We had both never been away from home, we didn't know each other well at all, and now we needed to rely on each other more than we had ever even relied on our closest family members.

"I was sent to the Silveren capital. I'll spare you the details, but I did make it there under a disguise and was quickly recruited into their army. Back then they were pretty desperate. They were losing and any volunteer was a heaven sent. It took me three years - three long years spent mostly alone except for in my head to get where they wanted me: in the Eternal Tech Medical Department."

"Your doctoral degree is Silveren?" Clarke interjected, something like shock or awe making her stare at her mother wide-eyed. Abby gave a brief nod.

"From there it was just a simple step into the Eternal Program. See, they wanted intel on how the process works, how the procedure is done, what materials are used, what training and treatment the subjects get before and after. I don't even know how I made it so smoothly, but suddenly I was at the core of the Golden counterintelligence, supplying them with the most accurate and detailed info we've ever had about the Eternals."

"When did you start doing the procedure yourself?" Clarke was acutely aware that Abby hadn't even begun to touch the actual subject of their conversation yet, but she was intrigued by her mother's account of that foreign life she had once lived, before Clarke. This Abby Griffin was a complete stranger…

"Five years into my assignment."

Clarke furrowed her brow. "And they let you do it? They let you perform the procedure?"

"They didn't know I was a Golden infiltrator—"

"No," Clarke interrupted her, shifting her position where she had sat down on the bed. "I mean the Golden authorities. Shouldn't they have done everything in their power to prevent more Silveren from being turned into weapons?"

"They - we - needed the intel more. We needed to know how it worked. We needed an expert in the field, so I became one."

"In the process turning however many people into… into this?" Clarke pointed somewhere over her shoulder, meaning Bellamy and Finn who were somewhere in the adjacent room. She was furious. Her mom had helped her own people by administering such a vile procedure? Turning humans into weapons? Weapons that had then gone on to kill innocent people?

Then suddenly, it dawned on her…

"The Eternal that came to our house," she began, sounding so small that her voice almost didn't carry, "was he one that you had turned?"

Abby's face fell, and it was all the answer Clarke needed. She jumped up so fast she had to press her hand against her side as the wound protested under the abrupt movement.

 _You okay, Clarke?_

 _No_. "No."

"Clarke."

"He killed dad! He killed grandma and grandpa! They're all dead because of you?!"

She could see her mother swallow hard, but Abby didn't deny it, didn't try to defend herself. Clarke's mouth hung open in disbelief. It had all been a lie, her whole life.

"Was your… assignment the reason you quit the army? Were you just trying to hide in the Neutral Zone? Or did you actually decide you'd rather want to support the people there than the freaking war?!"

 _Clarke_.

She heard and felt Bellamy, but she forced her barriers up. She couldn't let him in right now. She had to focus, to function, and she couldn't do that if he was in her head.

Abby stood frozen, her shoulders hanging in a defeated stance.

"When I had learned all I possibly could, they called me back. Getting out wasn't as easy, however. There's not all that many doctors able to perform the procedure, so they keep taps on those who do. They guard them carefully. - It took me a while and the help of a retrieval team to get out safely. I reported my findings yet again, this time in person, then your father and I were honorably discharged. They couldn't possibly get more use out of us, and by then the Silveren knew my face and knew to look for me. We had to stay hidden, and we did. We resumed an unsuspecting new life, farming. We had you…"

Abby's face briefly warmed up at the memory and it sent a pang through Clarke to see that much love in her mother's face. "Then the war got worse and we met Thelonious Jaha, who eventually gave us something to do again, who gave us a cause, more important than any of us. We began to fight for peace, to defend and strengthen the Neutral Zone. - And I was back on the radar."

"They came for you," Clarke needlessly concluded. She knew that part of the story all too well. Her nightmare, her memory…

Abby swallowed and licked her dry lips. She nodded, leaving out her account of that night. But it was still not clear why she had survived, why she had left Clarke behind.

"I couldn't risk them coming for you," Abby blurted abruptly, wringing her hands as she did. "I had to sever all ties. Believe me, if I could have kept you with me, I would have, but it would have been your death sentence."

"You're still here…"

Her mom looked down. She rubbed a hand across her forehead, nodding, as if to herself. "I know. It shouldn't have been possible. Our bond-partner dies, we die," she muttered, "but… When I was half across the continent, learning the ways of the enemy, I was subjected to a lot of radioactive metal, the source of all Eternal weapons. They went through my hands on a regular basis, and it… changed me."

Up until then Clarke hadn't paid much attention to the gloves her mother had been wearing. She was a doctor after all, dealing with her patients, and Clarke had simply assumed they were a precaution, part of her mother's medical attire. But now that Abby solemnly began to roll them off her hands, she realized that her mom hadn't ever not worn gloves of some kind all through her life.

When she saw the palest gleam appear on Abby's hands, she finally knew the reason. A small gasp escaped her, and she moved to touch them.

"Does it hurt?" she asked, awed, her question a mere whisper. She was afraid of the answer, remembering Bellamy's pain all too well.

But Abby shook her head. "It's just on the surface. I never got cut. Not like with the weapons…"

Clarke nodded absently. "You think it kept you alive though?"

"There's a strange power in the Eternal Metal, Clarke, something not quite… scientifically explainable. The way it keeps wounds open and from healing, but at the same time preserves lives. It takes a lot of wounds for a person to die. Most victims simply stay forever marred."

But there was nothing simple about that, either.

Nothing, nothing was ever simple anymore.

"That's not necessarily what happened, though. This," Abby turned her hands over, looking from them to her daughter, "I believe it eventually led to my bond to your dad getting severed. So when he died, it couldn't affect me anymore..."

Clarke didn't know what to say. There was potentially a way out there to sever a bond...

 _Bellamy, did you hear that?_

 _Yeah..._

* * *

…

Octavia raced back to the Red Cross with Raven, tense and anxious like she hadn't been in a damn long time. Bellamy was up, and she was going to see him soon.

She could feel Raven's eyes boring through her back for most of the ride, but they both kept quiet, not wanting to talk about anything, least of all Bellamy.

The last time she had spoken with him, she had angrily told him to never come back. "You can't blame mom or our father, or the weapon for everything, Bellamy," she had told him. "That urge to fight and kill, maybe that has always been a part of you. Otherwise I don't understand how you can do what you do, how you can live with yourself."

"I can't," had been his only answer. Then he had left on yet another mission to destroy what little hope the world had of ending that war, and she had turned away from her home to seek a better place, with better people: the foresters. Lincoln.

Bellamy had said he couldn't live with himself, she hadn't been able to live with him anymore, either, or even just close to him. So she had had to leave. But when he had suddenly been gone, it had almost broken her apart.

…

With excessive force, Octavia threw the big front door open and earned herself a glare from Raven that she shrugged off. Then the other girl went over to the med bay room quickly, leaving Octavia with a room full of silence and the promise of family.

She saw him right away, sitting at the table by the window, facing Indra, who was probably giving him a lecture and a hard time. Octavia almost chuckled, but it came out as just a huff of air. Her heart started beating faster. He was really up. He was alive, he looked unchanged, if maybe a little wearier. Her brother.

Indra spotted her first and exchanged a glance with her, a nod. Then Bellamy turned around, and…

Octavia made a clipped noise when she gasped at the expression on his face. There was so much love in there, love for her, and it spread like an ache in her when her heart answered with its own explosion of love that she had kept at bay, stowed away for too long.

"O…" It came out as a soft rasp, but it was enough. It was so good to hear him, to hear the old nickname.

"Bellamy…"

She walked as if in slow motion, then picked up her pace until they both half crashed into each other, Bellamy mindful not to get too close with his weapon, and she felt his touch against her as she buried her head against his shoulder. He still felt like home. He was her home.

When they eventually disentangled, they smiled at each other awkwardly.

"I heard you're bonded now," she said, and he grinned at her.

"And you are with the forest people. As Indra keeps reminding me."

"Bonds can be established on more than one level," Octavia allowed and Bellamy nodded at her.

"How have you been?"

She gave him a look. So much could happen in just a few months. A lot _had_ happened. To both of them.

"Okay." There would come a time for them to talk about it more, but not yet. He immediately understood and didn't press her. She returned the favor. She knew he had his own stories to tell, but right now only one thing was important.

"You haven't gone through with the mission?"

He shook his head, just once, and she nodded, sighing with relief. "Good." There was hope for him yet. "How's Indra been treating you?" She shot a glance at the scowling warrior and Bellamy grimaced.

"Can't complain," he muttered, "thanks to her I got this weapon here, and while I hate it with a passion, it's helping. And she knows I'll return it as soon as I can." He looked at the forest woman and she nodded solemnly, as if they had made a pact. Octavia frowned. Knowing Indra, knowing her brother, they probably had. Whether it was a good one, remained to be seen.

"I agreed to help him find a more adequate solution for his problem." Indra raised her chin, half challenging, but Octavia merely nodded.

"Good. I'll come," she announced, and while she could tell that both of the others wanted to argue or object, they didn't. "So, what is the plan?"

Bellamy sighed, the moment of their happy reunion was already gone and life went on. There were things to do, fights to win, and Octavia wanted to start now.

* * *

...

"You okay?" Raven had poked her head in when she had seen a somewhat distraught looking Doc leave the Red Cross. She wanted to make sure her daughter was okay.

"I'm... Ya. I'm okay," Clarke stammered, but she remained sitting on her bed, rubbing her eyes with both hands.

Raven smiled at her sympathetically. "It'll be alright, Clarke. Whatever it is that's bothering you."

"How?" the girl snapped, "You know we're on the run. My people are looking for us, yours are looking for him. There's no saying what they'll do to us when they find us. Killing us seems like our best option right about now."

"Don't even say that. Clarke. I know you don't know me very well at all, and I bet you don't trust me." The two women exchanged a look, grinning at each other awkwardly. Then Raven continued, "But I've known Bellamy for a while and despite everything, I've never seen him happier than now."

Clarke frowned, unsure of what to think. "This is him happy?"

"Happier at least." Raven winked. "I don't know how much he's told you. But with your bond, I'm sure you know him better than anyone. His life hasn't exactly been rewarding so far. He's used to the pain, so that's not even half of it." She gave Clarke a weird look, but didn't elaborate. Instead, she continued, " You seem to give him peace. I don't think I have seen him care about anything for a long time. And suddenly, there's you, and he does. He'd do anything for you. You and him, you will make it. I know it."

"Well, I'm glad you're so confident, because I'm really not." Clarke chuckled nervously and Raven chimed in, then suddenly gave her an unexpected hug.

"Did she have a good explanation for you?" Raven suddenly asked, making Clarke look at her confused. "For why she abandoned you?"

Clarke let her head hang. then nodded, grimacing briefly as she did. "I guess. It's..."

"Complicated?" Raven suggested gently, grinning at the other girl, and earned herself a sincere smile in return.

"Spot on. Hope you don't mind, but I'd really rather not talk about it right now."

Raven did a small salute, tapping her head. "You got it!"

Clarke pressed her lips together, grimacing more than grinning, then she mouthed a "Thank you."

She didn't have an easy time right now, and Raven felt bad for her. She wanted to give the other girl some space. With another nod, she turned around, holding onto the doorframe as she did, and paused.

"This is gonna sound so cheesy," she said, rolling her eyes at herself, "but… maybe you and I can become friends. One day… I get it if that is too weird for you right now. But I could really use a girlfriend that understands the troubles of dating an Eternal…" She looked a little embarrassed at having opened her heart like that, but when Clarke had to smile at her words, the ice was broken and she began smiling, too.

"I'd like that," Clarke admitted, "weird or not. A girl needs a girlfriend. - Especially when dating an Eternal…"

The two chuckled once more, then finally fell silent, averting their gazes. There was a strange melancholy to the moment, and Clarke found herself touching Raven's hand, until the girl looked up again. "Thank you, for being Bellamy's friend," Clarke whispered, "and mine."

Raven smiled a small, wistful smile. "Thank _you_."

She pushed herself off the doorframe, and with a thick voice she whispered, "I'll try and get Octavia to come with me and Finn now. I'm sure you'll want Bellamy for yourself for a while, after everything."

...

Clarke smiled at her without saying anything in return, and watched as her new friend made her way over to where the two siblings were still sitting, talking. They had friends here. _She_ had friends. They were not alone anymore.

* * *

…

When everyone had left and the Red Cross building lay in complete darkness, almost deserted, Clarke climbed into bed with Bellamy, resting her forehead against his, neither of them moving. The bed wasn't made for two, but they really didn't care.

Bellamy was lying at an awkward angle, balancing the weapon on the side of his body, mindful to keep it as far away from her as possible. He was feeling horribly self conscious about it and she wished she could have eased that somewhat, but she knew her feelings in that regard couldn't be controlled, and her fear and revulsion for the thing were hardest to hide.

"It has nothing to do with you," she muttered when she could see it in his eyes, and she caressed his face gently with her fingers, smiling at him sadly. "And I'm glad you're heeding medical advice and keeping it on."

He rolled his eyes. "You were all very persistent," he said, "O, your mom, Raven, you..."

She smiled briefly at him. "We just want you to heal."

"I know," he breathed, but he didn't look at her and it gave her a pang. He took a breath, his train of thought going elsewhere. "Finn said they found an outpost," he told Clarke, and she felt her skin prickle.

"One of yours?"

He nodded. "They were dead. Looked like a Golden attack. But… if they're this far out here, it means they've almost found us."

"Could it be something else? I don't know, a random run-in?"

"Possible." He looked up, dark eyes flashing. "Unlikely."

She nodded. So her people were out here now too. And they hadn't even made it into Silveren territory yet.

"What should we do?"

He sighed. Something was battling inside of him, and he was trying to hide it from her.

 _Don't. You can tell me…_

 _I need to get rid of the weapon. I can't handle it for much longer. It's draining._

 _I know._ She worried her lip, unsure whether she should touch him. _Let me take on some of the burden for a while._

 _You can't._

 _You know I can. And I will. It's really fine._

He shook his head. _This is different than before. The Old Ones... No._ He stopped abruptly, apparently not willing to explain it any more. Clarke wanted to say something else, wanted to argue. But she couldn't. She didn't know anything about the power of the weapons, least of all the older models.

"Alright," she therefore simply said. "We will just have to find something better for you soon."

Bellamy suddenly kissed her, lightly, just a flutter against her skin, and she wiggled a little closer to him, needing to feel him. "No rush," he breathed, "you need rest and I'll just have to wait a little while longer."

She shook her head. "I am well rested. Let's get on our way. If we want to change the world for us - for everyone - we need you to be as healthy as possible. We need to stick to our initial plan."

Silveren territory…

It would mean getting closer to his people, to the Captain. Bellamy's mother.

"You want to talk about my mother." He had read her mind. His clipped voice sounded unhappy and defeated.

"I think we have to…"

He clenched his jaw again, so hard she saw his muscles work, and she put a hand on his cheek to make him stop. "It's okay," she muttered. "Doesn't have to be tonight. It's just… if we can get to her…"

"We can stop the war?" Bellamy completed the sentence for her, then chuckled humorlessly. "You're not the first to think that. You're not the first to be wrong. She doesn't give a damn about anything I say. She doesn't give a damn about me."

"She made you an Eternal." Clarke gazed at him as he made a face at her.

"Exactly. At the age of 15. Two years younger than usual. Because she wanted to prove a point. Or… whatever the hell her real reason was. I honestly don't know and don't care."

…

Clarke suddenly remembered images from when she had been unconscious. Images that hadn't made sense then, but now, they became clearer. Translatable.

A back split open. Over and over again. A loud booming voice, cold and frightening.

And then...

"He isn't ready yet, ma'am." The man looked old and tired, like he wanted to be anywhere but there. There was a young assistant with him, an innocent looking woman, who couldn't have been out of training for very long. Her wide eyes were sad and stricken.

A dark shadow of a woman spoke with a gravelly voice. "Of course he is. He is my son."

"He is neither of age, nor of the right blood type. It might not work. We've had best results with type A-"

"Just do it. If it doesn't work, then find a way. Cut up the other arm, make the incision longer, I don't care what you do as long as you make it work!" An almost yell, full of anger. Then quieter, the woman continued, "He is my son, he needs to become a symbol of our power, our best and most effective weapon. My own flesh and blood needs to put fear in the enemy. He will be my arm, my hand, stretching out into enemy territory.."

"Ma'am. He'll probably just be in agony…"

"Then so be it! Do it or I'll do it myself!"

"As you wish."

A cold table, people towering around it. The feeling of being held down by many hands and then… a searing icy hot incision snaking its way down the arm, pain frothing up and pulsing until all was darkness. Nothing. Then: pain.

...

She saw it all again, saw it as if she was there. Bellamy tried to pull away from her, she knew it was not so much because of anything she had said, but because of the feelings his mother unearthed in him. Clarke wasn't ready to let him go. She put both her hands against his face, whispering, "Look at me." Urgently, desperately. When he did, she saw raw pain in there again, and her heart broke for him once more.

How often could a loving heart break? A million times over. And more.

She stretched out an arm, snaking it over his body, under his shirt, down his back, until she found the scars there, tracing them with her fingers.

"Your mother is a fucking asshole," she said, rather unpoetically and vulgar, and she got a small smile in answer.

"I wish I could ignore her." He took a shuddering breath, biting down hard again, and when Clarke shook her head, smiling warmly, he tried to relax once more.

"She has access to all Eternal technology, right?"

Bellamy frowned at her, suddenly realizing in what direction she was thinking. He nodded at her, and she smiled.

"I don't want you to have to deal with her ever again, but we might have to use her. We might have to play the relationship card…" She gnawed on the inside of her cheek, worried about how best to explain what she had in mind without having him think she was only using him. "And destroy all of that technology," she then simply whispered, staring at him, waiting for his reaction.

"What?" He looked at her, confused and frowning. Guarded. Ready to retreat.

"The way I've seen - experienced - you suffer, I want it to stop. No one should have to endure that. What kind of treatment is that for your own people? How haven't they revolted yet?"

"Terror is a pretty strong incentive to just follow orders and keep quiet, princess." He sighed, then looked at her again. "You'd have liked my initial mission."

She raised an eyebrow. "Oh? I thought you couldn't talk about that."

"Well, things have changed..." He trailed off, looking at her for a long charged moment, then he quietly communicated, _I was going to meet with a guy over on your side, someone who had contacted us with an offer-_

 _A Golden traitor?!_ Clarke's eyes widened, she had a stale taste in her mouth. She had been telling herself that she wasn't on anyone's side anymore in this war, but deep down she was still very much a Golden, and the betrayal of one of her own people agitated her more than she would have liked to admit.

 _If you want to call it that… He didn't exactly offer to switch sides._

 _But he wanted to meet with you…_

 _His way of trying to end the war, I guess. If you want to go so far, you could call it humanitarian reasons. He said he had a suggestion on how to get rid of the source for the Eternal weapons, and possibly a cure for this._ He nodded to his arm.

 _Why haven't you told me that before? When we first set out to go find something that'd help you?_

Clarke didn't understand. She was suddenly furious. It seemed like it was too good to be true, perfect timing for their demise. So why had he held back that information?

He grimaced at her. _We had no way of knowing how sincere he was. Whether we could trust him. And I was going to betray my own people._

 _What do you mean?_

He scoffed, unhappily. _The council sent me over to capture the man so we could question and then execute him._

Clarke gasped in horror, but Bellamy went on. _I_ _wasn't going to follow those orders. I was going to hear the man out and bring his cure to my people, destroy the sources. I would have been persona non grata, of course, a dead man walking, but… it seemed worth it to me. I was already mostly dead. And this was a chance to end the suffering on both sides._

Clarke licked her lips, marveling at his words, and a little disturbed by them too.

 _Do you still feel that way? About already being mostly dead?_

She had to ask, although she feared the answer. Bellamy smiled at her, a little sad, but mostly warm and with fondness, and he muttered into her hair, "No. Not anymore..."

 _So, what should we do now? s_ he asked, still huddled against him, her body starting to drift off into sleep but her mind hanging on, needing some closure before shutting down for the day finally. _Should we go with the initial plan of venturing into your lands, or should we try and find that man you were meant to meet?_

 _He probably went into hiding when I didn't show up._

 _I think we should find him. All the traces we left, they'll point into the direction we intended to go. I bet our people will follow those. They won't suspect us suddenly turning around and going back…_

Bellamy kissed her forehead lightly, smiling. She had closed her eyes now, she was so tired. She could feel herself drifting off. Fighting it became harder, almost impossible. He could feel that too.

 _You're smart, princess. Very smart. I think if you're willing to risk it, so am I. But… we need to be prepared that he may not be there anymore._

 _Right. - We also need to take care of your arm first._ Clarke nodded to herself, even her thoughts just a mumble now. _You can't ride incognito while carrying a weapon. Let's hope that woman Indra..._

Sleep eventually took hold of her, embracing her like a warm blanket, and Bellamy kept watching her for another few minutes, before he, too, finally fell asleep.

Tomorrow. Tomorrow they would have to find a solution for his arm. The day after, they could start trying to end the war and save the world. Even if the task seemed insurmountable, the odds stacked against them, he felt strangely exhilarated.

His mother would be appalled at learning that her own blood had been plotting against her. Octavia, on the other hand, would be thrilled. Even if they failed, the thought gave him a strange sense of peace. Peace with what he was, who he was.


	21. Edge of the woods

_._..

Clarke had not missed traveling through the cold on the back of a horse. She rolled her eyes at the sky, as she and Bellamy followed Octavia, Lincoln, Raven, and Finn through the remains of the snow, their horses making soft noises in the slush under their hooves. At least it was getting gradually warmer, the snow slowly thawing, patches of dirt visible in the first few small places.

With a sigh, she watched the houses pass by as they headed further and further away from the center of the settlement and toward the forest, where Indra lived, and where - according to her - they might find something better equipped to help Bellamy than the Eternal Weapon he was carrying. She had hinted at the possibility of there being a spare bandage somewhere.

As it turned out, the Eternal she had killed had been hiding in the forest, hiding with a woman not of their clan, and while he was dead now, she wasn't. Since the Eternal hadn't had a bandage with his things, Indra suspected that the woman might have it. Maybe she even knew more about where the Eternal had come from and why he had been carrying an Old One.

But first, they had to get Indra to guide them there.

She had left for her home before them, attending to matters of her clan, unwilling to spend more time than necessary in houses with hard walls as she called them. Foresters hated the settlements, hated feeling entombed in their buildings. Just like Lincoln still did, who therefore lived with Octavia right outside of the settlement in a tent.

Clarke shot a glance in his direction, where he rode alongside Octavia, both stoic and quiet, and she wondered what had brought those two together.

She remembered Bellamy's look when he had seen where his sister now spent her nights, out in the open, away from the settlers. He had not been pleased. She had felt it battle inside of him, the worry about his sister, his strong love, his powerful urge to protect her, but also a strange anger.

Octavia had shrugged at his disapproving glare and challenged him, "Haven't you spent your fair share of time under the open sky? Yet the worst things that have been done to you all happened in the presumed safety of thick walls?"

He hadn't been able to argue with her there. He had bristled nonetheless, had told her to make sure she was safe, and she had nodded with a mild expression on her face.

 _She's your sister, so I get your concern. But look at her. She's strong and independent, and I think she knows what she's doing,_ Clarke told him now, because he was still hung up on the same dark thoughts. He glared at her briefly, though she knew he wasn't upset with her so much as with himself. Having his sister back had sent his feelings into turmoil.

She could understand him so well. With her mom suddenly back, Clarke's own feelings were equally jumbled and confused. Their little mission was a welcome distraction from all that for both of them.

...

Raven pulled her horse up to Clarke's and gave her a wink. "You alright?"

She nodded at the other girl with the hint of a smile, and Raven smiled right back.

"Octavia said Indra likes her privacy. The foresters are not exactly people persons, so don't be shocked when she tries to throw us all right back out."

Clarke raised an eyebrow. "I thought she volunteered to help us. Plus, she really wants that weapon back..."

"Yeah." Raven shrugged. "She's complicated. But Octavia knows how to handle her, so..."

Clarke wasn't exactly happy that they had to meet that woman at all. But if they wanted to get rid of the Old One, and find Bellamy a bandage without having to go deep into Silveren territory, they had to find out where that other woman lived and whether she still had the bandage. If they didn't, Finn had offered to let Bellamy keep his spare, and Clarke was glad about that. But then she had learned another tidbit of Silveren Eternal lore and it had changed her opinion.

Once an Eternal had carried an Old One, the normal bandages didn't work as well anymore. The newer bandages were thinner, more flexible, and made in a different way. Mostly because the newer models of the weapon left a clear cut incision scar on the arm. The Old Ones, however, dug into their carriers in a more crooked way, leaving less clean scars, and those needed better support to be soothed. Finn's bandage had been okay before. But after they had put the Old One on Bellamy's arm, he would need something stronger, something only an Old bandage could provide.

By giving him the weapon they might have saved his life and at the same time exacerbated the problem. Clarke still didn't know how to feel about that, other than upset. They had meant well, of course... She held out hope that Bellamy's mission -that he had kept from her for too long, she found - would soon help them get rid of the whole problem once and for all.

If they could contain the sheen on his arm, keep it from spreading until they met that mysterious Golden, things would get better. She had to believe that. She just hoped the man hadn't lied about his potential cure, or told the Silveren a ruse to lure them into a trap. Bellamy relied on his words to be true. She did.

"This one over there," Raven suddenly announced and Clarke frowned as she saw what she was looking at. A large tent, much larger than the one Octavia and Lincoln were living in, strapped up between a few looming trees.

"I wasn't expecting that," she mumbled, and Raven grinned at her.

"I know, right? She lives in a tent-castle."

Octavia was the first to dismount her horse, and the others followed quickly. Clarke grimaced as she hopped into the sludge and the cold immediately crept into her feet. Why couldn't this all have happened in the summer, at least? Why in this god forsaken worst winter in a while?

"I'll go first," Bellamy's sister announced, giving them all a stern look. "You wait here."

"I wasn't gonna argue..." Raven turned to Clarke, giving her a conspiratorial eye-roll. Addressing Octavia, she added, "Let's just get it over with and get on our way."

"O, wait." Bellamy quickly grabbed his sister by the arm, holding her back. "Are you sure she's gonna help us?"

He hadn't wanted to argue or even bring his concern up. He had seen how almost affectionate Octavia and that warrior woman behaved around each other, it was so obvious that Octavia looked up to the older woman, but when he felt Clarke's sudden worry about his safety - their safety - wash over to him through their link, he felt obliged to make sure they could trust Indra.

Octavia glared at him, trying to rein in a sudden exasperation. She exchanged a look with Lincoln, who nodded to her calmly. Bellamy squinted at them both, acutely aware of the intimacy between them, of the calming influence the other man had on his sister. She took a deep sighing breath, then looked straight at her brother.

"I trust her with my life. She will help us, guide us to the woman who hid the Eternal," she told him somberly. "She may not know you, but she knows you're my brother, and I vouched for you all. Don't make me regret it."

He clenched his teeth, but nodded. "Okay." He let go of her arm and stepped away, watching as she walked over to the large tent and stepped inside, vanishing from view.

Clarke's gaze was on him and he made a face.

 _I hope she's right_ , he communicated.

 _Me too. But we don't have much of a choice. Be prepared. If she pulls any stunt..._ She didn't finish her thought, because she didn't have to. He knew what she meant. Their mission was the most important thing now. A potential way out of the war. Peace, for her people and his.

* * *

...

"She's ready to see you now."

Bellamy blinked at his sister, who had just walked back out of the tent to face them all. He glared, his level of annoyance rising and Clarke reminded him to stay focused.

 _She's playing with us. She said she was going to help me; now she is stalling. Why? I don't understand what O even sees in her._

Clarke looked at him mildly. _There's a lot you - we - don't know about her. I'm sure Octavia has her reasons, and I doubt she'd knowingly endanger you. You two love each other._

She could tell he wanted to argue, but in the end he didn't, because Indra suddenly poked her head out, then slowly emerged out into the open completely. She was dressed in her whole warrior attire, just like Lincoln and Octavia, the young Silveren looking every bit as much like a forester as the former two.

"So, where do we find that mysterious woman?" Raven asked abruptly, not one for waiting idly around. Finn gave her a warning look, but she merely shrugged at him. "We're a little pressed for time here," she added, focusing back on the warrior woman.

Indra didn't even acknowledge her, however, and addressed Bellamy instead. She pointed a finger at him. "Personally, I don't care much about you Eternals. You wreak havoc, you bring terror and pain into this land. This is not Silveren territory, yet you all keep barging in like you own the place."

Finn exchanged an uncomfortable look with Bellamy, then Raven, before he turned to the forest woman, stepping a little closer to relieve his fellow Eternal from her scrutinizing stare. He didn't even know why he did it. It wasn't like he had cared much about the other man before. Rather, the opposite was true. He only knew Bellamy through Raven - and because of who he was, and he had felt an involuntary jealousy toward him. That Bellamy Blake had managed to become even more special by developing a bond with that gorgeous Golden princess hadn't helped.

Yet, he had surprisingly begun to feel sorry for the guy. No one deserved the terror of the Old Ones, and Indra's random stalling was simply undeserved.

"Indra," he began, trying to be polite and respectful so as not to earn the woman's wrath. "We are not here to steal any of your time. You said you were going to help us find a bandage for him. So, could you please tell us where we can find your… friend, or contact, or whatever she is?" He looked a little tense as they all waited for an answer.

The woman looked from him to Bellamy, to Raven, addressing the latter when she spoke, waving at Finn. "Does he always talk like that?"

Raven made a half apologetic face, and grabbed a slightly bristling Finn by the arm, but she didn't say anything. Indra huffed, rolling her eyes, clearly annoyed by the whole situation.

"Please," Clarke finally chimed in, having stood to the side until then. She slowly took a few steps toward the forester warrior, stretching her arms away from her body in a non-threatening way. "We promise we won't bother you or her. We mean no harm. We just want to find a bandage and return the weapon and then we'll be on our way."

"And you need six people for that? Is that your way of showing you mean no harm? Because to me, it looks like an ambush. - Why didn't the Captain's Eternal go on his own?"

"Indra." Octavia's voice was a warning. The older woman waved a dismissive arm.

"Fine," she allowed, "I said I'd bring you to her, and I will - and then I get my weapon back. Let me get my coat and my boots. One of you will have to lend me a horse, it's too far to walk. Especially in this weather…" With that, she vanished back into her tent, closing the flap, leaving the six of them waiting in the icy cold.

They exchanged looks, awkwardness spreading, and Clarke felt herself drawn to Bellamy, quickly searching for his hand and holding it.

 _Do you think you'll be okay without a weapon?_ she asked, worry showing in her features, and he moved closer to her, leaning in until she could feel the heat emanating from him. He smiled, but it didn't convince her.

 _I'll be fine. If it doesn't work out, I'll have to find myself a new model and try it again. I've held out a long time without one before-_

 _Right. And where did that get you?_

He sighed, but before he could say anything, the flap was opened again, and Indra walked out briskly, wearing a thick fur coat.

"Shall we?" she asked, then looked up to the men. "Which one of you is gonna give me his horse?"

Bellamy was the first to move. Disentangling from Clarke, he made his way over to where he had tethered his horse, but before he could hand her the reins, Finn had put a hand on his shoulder and shook his head.

"She can have mine. You'll need your strength."

"Such courtesy among you Eternals." Indra raised an eyebrow at them. "One could almost believe it's true what they say about you, that whoever first created you wanted to bring back the knights…"

Clarke raised her head and frowned at that little tidbit. She had never heard that before, but it made sense that she hadn't. It put the Eternals in a much nobler light than the Golden probably wanted to believe.

Finally, it was time to leave. They all made their way to wherever the mysterious woman who had once hidden an Eternal resided. They had to go slow, even though Finn and Raven had begun sharing a horse. But with the added weight, the animal couldn't go as fast, and the slippery ground didn't help matters either.

"At least it's finally thawing," Raven chirped, trying to make light conversation, but nobody was in the mood to engage. So they rode the rest of their trip in silence, a tension spreading between them that Clarke found weirdly stifling.

* * *

…

The hazy sun was already on the decline again when they finally reached a small patch of underbrush leading into another large forest. "It's right in there," Indra was saying, pointing, and the little group was frowning at her. One woman, so far away from any other settlement, living so close to the forest?

Clarke pressed her lips together. She didn't trust the warrior woman, she had no reason to. She would have to stay vigilant. At least they had two Eternals with them, a thought Clarke would have never dreamed of finding reassuring one day. Suddenly Indra stopped and motioned for them all to do the same.

"We should leave the horses here if we want to keep them alive," she told them. "The forest is dangerous around these parts. Wild animals, scavengers..." She trailed off.

 _Awesome_ , Clarke thought, and Bellamy shot her a half amused glance.

 _It can only get better, right?_

"You two are a strange pair," Indra observed, earning herself a wary glare from Clarke, and she chuckled. "Easy now, Golden. I didn't mean that as an offense. Just wondering how fond the Captain will be of a Golden bride for her Eternal."

"Indra, don't." Octavia had laid a hand on the other woman's arm, wordlessly imploring her, and eventually the woman gave a brief nod. "Follow me," she then said and quickly walked ahead.

They all went after her, deeper into the forest. The trees were tall and dark, despite the winter season, the rest of sunlight barely penetrating it. Many of the trees were pines, sharp needles prickling and unwelcoming. There was a sharp smell of sap in the air, a stark contrast to the still frozen smells out in the open. Eventually, they came upon a small hut, and Indra walked straight up to it, knocking with verve, calling out loudly, making Clarke flinch. Somehow, she had expected a little more stealth.

"Lexa! Open up, or we will come in!"

The door sprang open almost immediately, a young woman with a brown cascade of wavy hair and a dark outfit stepping into the light coming from within. She was carrying an old shotgun, a rare weapon in those parts of the world, and Bellamy quickly stepped in front of his sister and Clarke, shielding them both, while Finn right next to him did the same for Raven.

 _Not again_ , something in Bellamy's mind was thinking, and Clarke couldn't agree more. Their last encounter with a firearm had not ended so well, and she could still feel it in her side.

The young stranger must have seen the sheen of the weapon on Bellamy's arm as he moved, because she squinted at him, calling out, "It suits you well." Then her eyes fell on Clarke and she smiled briefly. "To what do I owe the pleasure?"

"We're here to ask about an Eternal Bandage," Clarke made herself say.

Bellamy held up his arm briefly. "This belongs to Indra, but I hear it was once in the possession of someone you knew. I'm here to ask you for the bandage that should have come with it."

She smirked at him, a little aloof. "Why would I give you that if I had it?"

"You don't have to, but I'm asking you. This is an Old Weapon. These things," he looked down on his arm, the weapon gleaming brightly, "They corrupt their bearers..."

"Maybe they need corrupting."

Bellamy was bristling, but it was Clarke who stepped forward, in front of the woman. "Why did your Eternal have it? Whose was it? Who was he?" Her expression had turned fierce.

Lexa chuckled lightly. "It used to belong to my grandfather. But why don't you all come inside for a moment and I'll tell you a little story. That's why you're here, isn't it?" She nodded in the direction of the door, beckoning them to follow her.

Inside, a nice fire crackled and the smell of some sweet tea was fragrant in the air. She waved toward a jumble of sofas and chairs. "Why don't you sit down. Indra, come help me serve them some tea. Might as well put in some work of your own now that you've brought them all over here."

The two women glared at each other, Indra positively bristling, but eventually they came to an unspoken agreement and went over to the small adjoining kitchen for a few minutes, leaving the younger ones to exchange some glances and wait in awkward silence, until Lexa suddenly piped up from over by her stove, "So, before you ask why I live hidden away in the forest in this tiny place and not among the other veteran families in the cities: you two should know," she waved over to Clarke and Bellamy, making them frown in her direction.

"You don't think you'll be able to happily live your lives together, do you?" the woman said challengingly, "A Silveren and a Golden?" She scoffed. "My grandfather ran away with a Golden. Back when they tried, once again, to attack us at the core, in the homeland, Nevada. You know, it's a strange fact that many keep forgetting, but the Golden did originate from California, it's just been such a long time that nobody really remembers. In our minds it's been Silveren territory for a long time. Almost forever. But I am proof that it wasn't always like that. My family hails from the west coast, a small little town, and when my grandfather came to scoop away my poor ignorant grandma to bring her with him to Nevada, that was the end of that. Or so everyone thought. But people could tell. They saw what she was, and they treated her badly for it. Why would she bind herself to the worst the enemy had to offer?"

She looked at them all as if she was expecting an answer, but then she gave it herself.

"Love. Of course." She paused, looking off into the distance for a moment, then she continued, "My family is spread all over now, I couldn't keep track. But we all share one thing: we could never blend in. We were always called out. Not Golden enough, not Silveren enough. Maybe the great grandchildren will fare better now, with the Neutral Zone around, but my generation?" She sighed. "Anyways. You are not here for storytime, are you? Bellamy Blake." She had come walking toward him, now stopping very close to him, bending down until her lips almost touched his ear. Clarke shot him a warning glance, when the other woman whispered almost inaudibly, "Ask your mother something next time you see her, will you? Ask her what she knows about the father of her children. About his lineage. Because she _will_ know. It's the reason you never got to meet him…"

Bellamy jolted up, jerking his head, unwilling to sit there and listen to the woman ramble for much longer. "Stop," he hissed, and Clarke got up after him, gently touching his arm.

 _Don't let her see that she's getting to you,_ she implored him, because she could tell how much the words of the woman had affected him, how deeply they had stung.

It was not just the things Lexa had said, but also what she had not explicitly mentioned, the things she had left out, but in a manner that it was all too clear what she was inferring. Bellamy's father was not a pure Silveren. Suddenly the puzzle pieces came together, and it all made sense. How Clarke had been able to bond with him…

 _Did you know?_ she asked him, but he had shut himself off from her.

"Do you have the bandage or not?" Bellamy abruptly asked, completely disregarding what the woman had been talking about and she shot him a sympathetic glance, before her gaze fell on Clarke.

"I do." She gave him a look, open yet challenging. "I'll give it to you, but I want the weapon back in return. It is an heirloom of sorts after all..."

"No." Indra had gotten up and was shaking her head. "I earned it rightfully in battle. It is mine and I will have it back." She shot Lexa a hateful glare, then stepped over to Bellamy. "You will not give her the weapon, Eternal. Take it off and hand it back to me."

"He can't just take it off." It was Octavia. She swiftly moved to stand by her brother's side, staring hard ahead.

"He will have to."

"Indra!" Octavia sounded indignant, but her friend's whole stance brokered no argument, and Bellamy gently laid a hand on his sister's arm.

"It's alright, O. Time to get this off, anyway."

"Let me get you my spare bandage first at least." Finn and Bellamy exchanged a look before the younger man nodded and quickly walked out. Bellamy made a face at Clarke, then moved to take the offending object off.

 _You sure? Maybe we can..._

 _No._ He stared hard at Clarke. _I'm not gonna be a part of the powerplay of these two._

She smiled a sad, sympathetic smile at him. There was more to it. His mother... She understood.

"Bellamy, no. Are you sure?" Raven asked right then, concern in her voice, but he gave her a look that shut her right up, and she turned away upset but sympathetic.

When Bellamy was done, he handed Indra the weapon and turned toward the entrance. "I'll be waiting outside. Clarke, you coming?"

"Yeah," she said, putting her cup down, "I'll be right there." She was ready to follow him out, their trip to Lexa not having been much of a success. Indra was already carefully wrapping the weapon in a tarp, when Lexa suddenly grabbed Clarke's arm, and she turned to glare at her, wary and alert.

"Wait." Lexa stared at her, and while Clarke felt the urge to angrily shake her off, she didn't. Then the young woman addressed the forester warrior.

"You shouldn't have come, Indra. But now that you're here, I'd like a word."

The forest woman squinted at Lexa warily, and Clarke felt something unspoken go on between the two. Eventually, the older one nodded.

"But the weapon stays in my possession."

Lexa gave an eye roll, and a tired nod. "Fine. - Now, why don't you wait for me in the kitchen."

Indra huffed, her mouth an angry line, but she did as she was asked. "Tell Octavia I'll meet her later," she told Clarke, who could only nod at her.

Lexa smiled at her, suddenly turning away, walking over to a small chest in front of her bedstead toward the back of her shed.

"I got something for you," she muttered to Clarke, as she knelt down to open the chest and get a small bag out of it. She returned to Clarke looking at her with warm sympathy.

"I like you, Clarke. You have the heart of a warrior, and a mind of reason. You look out for yours, I can see and respect that." She laid a hand on Clarke's cheek, and to her own surprise, Clarke didn't flinch away. There was a strange compassion in the other girl's features.

"But you're not willing to help," she rasped, and Lexa smiled.

"I hate the war as much as you do. It took everything from me. I'm not Silveren enough to follow in my grandfather's footsteps, not Golden enough to try out for a bond. But I'm happier that way."

"Good for you." Clarke pulled away. She wanted to get going, but Lexa held her back. She sighed.

"Give him this," she said, finally handing her the bag, and Clarke took it delicately, a quizzical look giving away her confusion. "You were right. With every weapon there comes a bandage. It's been like that for almost an eternity. I want to see you succeed, Clarke of the Golden."

Clarke felt like she should say something but she couldn't make herself. The woman smiled mildly. "It is an older model, as well, obviously," she explained as if someone had asked. "They used to weave them stronger in the olden days. Better fabric, tighter woven. Feel it," she urged, and Clarke did. Lexa was right. The quality was a lot better, the texture tight and firm. She had a good feeling about that and she hoped she was right.

Because they needed that.

Suddenly, Lexa leaned over and boldly kissed her on the lips. Clarke pulled back, surprised, but the other woman chuckled.

"Let me know if you ever change your mind about him," she said, winking, then let her go.

Clarke grinned a little awkwardly. "Thank you..."

* * *

…

"I don't know, I still think giving back that weapon was a mistake." Raven was stomping her feet against the cold, waiting for the others to get ready for the trek back to their settlement.

Bellamy glared at her, shaking his head. "That's because you don't have to carry that freaking weapon," he snapped, uncharacteristically harsh, and she didn't press the matter. Clarke gave her a sympathetic look, and the brunette shrugged.

"She has a point," she quietly said, earning herself a glare, too. "If we really want to go on that mission, we might need all the protection we can get. And while I hate to admit it, an Eternal Weapon is still one of the best weapons out there to help us with that."

 _Seriously, Clarke?_ Bellamy did not sound pleased at all. She understood him, she really did, but she also saw the bigger picture. She walked closer to Bellamy, handing him the little pouch-like bag Lexa had given her.

"It's the bandage," she explained when he frowned at her.

"She didn't get her weapon back."

Clarke shrugged. "Lexa seems to have a heart after all," she said, a small smile appearing on her face. "Come on, let's hurry and wrap you up."

She could feel how the pain was already obliterating most of his thoughts and he wasn't going to argue or put up a fight. With a sharp intake of breath, he leaned against the wall of Lexa's shack and let Clarke help him wrap his arm with it tightly.

 _If the weapon can help us reach our long term goal,_ she levelly began, not looking up from her task, but he didn't let her finish.

 _So you're willing to sacrifice me for the greater good. Is that it? One for the many? Because that's what this amounts to. There's no coming back from what the Old One does to you when you wear it for too long. You do realize it could very well mean that you'll go down that path with me, right?_

He was angry, upset, but most of all, she could tell that he felt defeated. She gently put a hand on his chest.

"I'm willing to risk my life to end this war," she then said out loud and added, "but you're right. I'm not willing to risk yours."

That was the thing, really. She knew it was irrational. Her feelings for him got in the way of her usually pretty rationally thinking mind. Their lives for the many, it was a small sacrifice, and yet it was too much if it meant losing him. She couldn't help herself.

"Everything alright over here?" Octavia suddenly appeared beside her brother, looking up to him with concern.

"Perfect," he grumbled, not looking at either her or Clarke.

Octavia frowned, shooting a glance at the other girl that Clarke shrugged off with a grimace. Then, before the younger one could say anything else, Raven interrupted them, clapping her hands.

"Alright," she said, "Let's get going. Octavia, if Indra really isn't coming, there's no need to wait anymore." She was ready to get back, they all were. It wouldn't be particularly fun to ride back in the dark, especially not when it was probably going to freeze over again and their path would be even more slippery than before.

Octavia nodded at her, then went to exchange a few quiet words with Lincoln, who was holding their two horses by the reins.

"We need to hurry," Raven was saying while Clarke was still busy finishing her wrapping job, "I don't want to spend too much time in this freaking forest after nightfall. What the hell was Indra thinking, leading us here? She should have at least mentioned that the lady is a wood hermit."

Finn walked over to her, grabbing her gently, talking to her, and Clarke could hear the other girl huff but nod to whatever her boyfriend told her. Clarke smiled to herself. Somehow, she could see a little of herself and Bellamy in the other couple.

"You two ready over there?" Octavia suddenly called out, jolting her out of her thoughts again. Her serious expression quickly pulled Clarke and Bellamy back into the here and now, and with a nod, they made their way over to the horses finally.

"I really hope we won't encounter any more trouble out here," Clarke mumbled to herself, but Bellamy picked up on it.

"Like what?" He asked as he prepared to get on his horse.

She rolled her eyes. "Rabid dogs?" she suggested, shrugging.

"What, you didn't like the experience? And here I thought you seemed like a dog person."

"A dog person, huh? Are we really talking about this right now?"

"Why not? Now is as good a time as any."

Clarke huffed, then chuckled. "I do like dogs. Not rabid beasts, though."

The short light moment was cut short, when Bellamy suddenly stopped what he was doing and motioned for them all to be quiet, signaling something to Finn, who seemed to understand immediately and moved to put on the weapon he had brought.

 _Voices,_ Bellamy informed her, _over by the horses._

She grabbed his arm, eyes wide. Her heart was beating so hard she could feel it in her throat.

 _We could try and hide_ , he halfheartedly suggested, but they both knew it was not really an option.

 _We need those horses…_ Clarke stated flatly, grimacing. Without the horses, they would not make it back to the settlement for hours, and they wouldn't be able to get new ones early enough to quickly leave on their mission to meet with Bellamy's contact. No, they couldn't hide. They would have to face whoever was out there. Clarke chewed on her lips, her gaze locking on Bellamy's as he nodded at her.

They might have to fight their way out of this one. The six of them... against how many others?


	22. Trapped

_._..

They crept closer through the underbrush, slowly, stealthily. Clarke might not have been a soldier, but she was getting used to this: being hunted, always on the lookout.

She had gathered up the hem of her long fur lined coat to keep it from dragging and was watching her every step carefully, at the same time making sure she stayed close to Bellamy. He kept turning around to check on her, and their gazes met every so often, giving Clarke reassurance.

When they were finally close to the horses again, he suddenly put a finger to his lips, gesturing to everyone to be quiet. The animals were anxiously whinnying. Something wasn't right. Clarke tried to peek through the underbrush, but couldn't see anything. Bellamy, now right beside her, shook his head, signalling to the others. A few hand signs Clarke couldn't read, then ten raised fingers. Ten strangers.

 _Golden_ , he let Clarke know, and she grimaced. Her people…

 _They're here for us…_ There was no question about it. Somehow, her people had followed them all the way to the woods. They had probably seen their horses, and were now here to take them prisoner, or worse. They couldn't let that happen. She couldn't let that happen. There were people with them that had helped them. Bellamy's sister…

"We can't wait here in the woods until they're gone," Octavia quietly said, having crept over to where her brother and Clarke sat huddled behind a large tree. "It'll be dark very soon and this part of the forest is too dangerous after nightfall, and I doubt these people are going anywhere until they have found what they came for."

Her pointed, imploring gaze worried Clarke. What dangers lay dormant among the trees surrounding them? She probably didn't want to know. With a hiss, she pulled herself up a little, then addressed the other girl.

"So we're trapped. What are you suggesting?"

Octavia stared at her, contemplating. Clarke could tell that the younger girl was still somewhat flustered by the fact that her brother was bonded to a Golden. She had learned from Bellamy that he and Octavia had had an argument about the war when they had last seen each other. His sister had been adamant that fighting was the wrong way of dealing with the Golden threat. It meant that innocent people were caught in the crosshairs, and she had decided to become their spokesperson.

Clarke could see why. Octavia was fierce, often angry, but she was also good at allowing different people from different backgrounds into her life. She had accepted Clarke as fact; she lived in a settlement with former soldiers from both sides. She had even made herself a name among the reclusive forest people, and after hooking up with one of them, though an outcast, she was still respected by the strange warrior woman Indra. That girl knew what she was doing, and Clarke was willing to listen to her. Bellamy, however, was worried.

"You wanna fight them, don't you?" he asked his sister, and Octavia raised her eyebrows at him in answer.

"It's the only way. We're six, they're only four more, and they don't have an Eternal Weapon like we do." She nodded to Finn, who, Clarke noticed, suddenly looked very tense and uncomfortable.

"I don't know. Maybe we can talk to them first, see why they're—"

"You don't honestly think that," Octavia interrupted him incredulously. "I know you're not that stupid, Bellamy. These guys are here for you and Clarke. They won't stop until they've killed all of us and captured you two."

Bellamy glowered at her, but Clarke put a hand on his arm.

"She's right. There's no other way."

"Clarke," he began, but he couldn't bring himself to continue. Instead, he allowed her to see what he was so worried about. Ever since he had put on the thicker older bandage and wasn't under the influence of the weapon anymore, Clarke had noticed how their barriers had worked better again, how their minds were sealed off once more. But now he let her back in.

He was worried about what he might have to do to some of Clarke's people. What she would think of him if she saw him fight - and kill.

 _I know you're not here to slaughter anyone. Whatever happens, must happen._

She pressed her lips together firmly, resolutely staring at him. There was nothing more to say. With a resigned nod in her direction he motioned for the others to get in position.

"Alright," he muttered, looking at Octavia first. "You and Lincoln come from the right, Raven and I from the left. Clarke, we need someone to come from the back. We need the moment of surprise, so I need you and Finn to stay behind until I signal for you."

Clarke nodded, understanding. Maybe she wasn't in good shape yet, but she and Bellamy were the only ones with a link and thus the only ones that could help pull the plan off. Somehow, she would manage. If they needed her, she would come through for them.

"Finn should be with us, Bellamy. Let Lincoln or Raven or—"

"No." He abruptly shut his sister's objection off, and she glared at him.

"He's our best shot at taking out as many of them as possible, so that we might not even need the backup from behind."

She had a point, but her brother wasn't having any of it. Clarke was surprised that he even had a counter-argument.

"If we need the backup, we better have more than just two normal fighters - one of them injured to boot - at the ready. None of us can scare them as much as an Eternal. We should manage without him in the initial fight, and if we can't, we'll call for them. It's better that way. Tactics 101."

Octavia wanted to argue, but Lincoln suddenly grabbed her shoulder lightly, shaking his head. "He's right," he agreed with Bellamy, startling both Blake siblings equally.

"Fine." Octavia got up quickly, readying her sword. It was obvious that she still wasn't pleased with her brother's plan, but she wasn't going to argue anymore. "Let's do this."

Bellamy sniffed, rubbing his nose. Getting up, he exchanged a long glance with Finn, his fellow Eternal and the one to stay behind with Clarke.

"Keep her safe," he rasped, and as Finn nodded, it suddenly dawned on Clarke why Bellamy had chosen him of all people to stay back with her: because he was currently their strongest soldier.

Bellamy wanted to make sure she got the best fighting chance at staying safe that she could.

 _Be careful_ , Clarke implored him, suddenly afraid of losing him and feeling awkward because she clearly worried him. She was, after all, the only one without combat experience. Bellamy gave her a last look, a brief peck on the forehead, then he barged out into the open with Octavia, Lincoln and Raven coming from the other side.

Clarke held her breath as she and Finn waited. If only she had a weapon of her own, she thought, anything, so that she could help the others better. She wasn't born to stay behind and watch as others fought her fights.

* * *

…

Clarke had huddled up with Finn, both of them hiding behind a fallen tree, but she kept peeking over it to see whether they were needed, yet. So far, Bellamy hadn't signaled for them yet, however.

"If we have to go, you stay by my side, okay?" Finn suddenly whispered so quietly that Clarke had a hard time understanding him against the light rustle of the forest around them. She gave a half nod. She wasn't stupid, and not suicidal. She knew she wasn't back to her full strength yet. If she could help it, she would stay hidden for as long as it took, and she would definitely not race into her own doom unaccompanied. She and Finn relied on each other, and their friends relied on them.

She couldn't hear what was going on with Bellamy and the others, and it worried her. Bellamy's mind seemed completely sealed off for the moment, and she couldn't glean any information through her link. But he had single handedly wiped out that troop of Silveren before. He would be alright. He had to be.

"Did you hear that?" Finn hissed right then, jumping slightly, extending an arm to cover her, and Clarke froze, her breath stuck in her lungs.

At first she only heard the woods, and was about to tell Finn that the noises could make you paranoid, but suddenly, she heard a low growl and a snarl, so close it made the nape of her neck prickle uncomfortably. Slowly, she turned her head to the side where she saw a long snout pointed in her direction, sharp teeth visible. A large wolf, or was it a dog? She wasn't sure.

The beast hadn't come alone.

"Shit," it escaped her companion, and she nodded her head in agreement. Not again, she thought, and somehow she must have alerted Bellamy, because suddenly she felt him back in her mind, felt his worry for her.

 _What is it?_

 _Wolves, or dogs_ , she informed him, clenching her teeth and exchanging a look with Finn, who was signaling something to her. Clarke held a finger to her lips, then carefully pushed herself up against the tree, trying to remain completely silent.

Over her link she saw images flash by, Bellamy was in the middle of a fight, completely preoccupied.

 _We need you, Clarke._

She grimaced, nodding to Finn. He understood, and slowly tried to rise up, his weapon now visible, and Clarke gave an involuntary shudder. She had to force herself to concentrate on other things or the sudden storm of old emotions and dark memories would spiral her downward.

 _I got this_ , she eventually let Bellamy know, forcing herself to sound more convinced than she felt. She took a deep breath to calm herself, and it worked; his worry for her eased a little and his focus on the fight grew once more.

 _We'll be right there. Hang on._

Clarke bit her lip, exchanging a glance with Finn, before they both slowly got in position. A living, breathing wall of animals had appeared between them and the others, and they had to get through it quickly, or all was lost.

"You ready?" she asked Finn, and he looked at her almost panicked, making her frown. "What is it?"

"It's nothing." He jerked his head, brown strands falling out of his face, clearing his vision, and he hesitated for another moment. Suddenly she understood. She didn't need a link to everyone in order to read their minds, not when it was that obvious. She had seen this before, in Bellamy: the self-loathing, the deep pain about having to do what needed to be done.

Carefully, she took a step toward him, acutely aware that the wolves around them were starting to circle in on them.

"It's okay," she soothed. "They need us, Finn. They need you. I need you. It doesn't turn you into a bad person."

He looked at her unhappily. "I wish that was true, princess," he muttered, but then sprang forward so suddenly that she didn't even really have a chance to wonder about what it was with those Eternals all calling her princess.

Because she was no princess, not at all.

* * *

...

Bellamy fought with his body alone, arms and fists, and powerful kicks. He leaned far back, evading a female aggressor's attack, then ducked down to dive and hit the woman from behind. He needed to get her dagger before she managed to hurl it at him, but she was a strong opponent, small and flexible, always moving, like a freaking gymnast.

In the back of his mind he felt Clarke, and the worry about her kept him from paying attention when the Golden came at him again, dagger aimed toward his chest. Reflexively, he stretched out his arms to deflect her, though he didn't even have his weapon on him, and his eyes widened when he watched the blade connect with his weapon-arm as if in slow motion.

He was aware of Raven and Octavia fighting somewhere alongside him, saw flashes of Lincoln. He noticed the Golden bodies on the ground…

The enemy had identified Bellamy as an Eternal right away, even without his weapon, and thus had not waited to attack. There hadn't been a chance for a peaceful solution. Octavia had been right all along.

"You don't have a chance," the woman hissed at him, "We're coming at you from all sides." She grinned a bloody grin, and Bellamy froze for just a split second.

An army was coming for them. From all sides. Their backup would get overrun.

 _Clarke, they're coming from behind. Get out of there. Now!_

Bellamy had to hurry and get this over with before they got to Clarke and Finn. Even an Eternal could not take on an army.

He was staring at the dagger, his arm. He waited for his brain to catch up and send pain exploding through his body. His eyes traveled up to meet the enemy woman's. There was an excited expression on her face that suddenly faltered and fell. Confusion flooded his own mind, it was such a strange feeling that he wasn't sure whether it was his own or Clarke's. And then he noticed that his arm was unhurt. There was no pain. The dagger had slid through the sleeves of his coat and shirt with ease, but had not been able to penetrate the fabric of the bandage at all. He was okay.

He used the moment of surprise to quickly jump back up, grabbing the woman's dagger swiftly and plummeting it straight into her throat. She took one last gurgly half-breath, then Bellamy was already up and helping his sister against a tall Golden that had thrown her to the ground and was holding her there, pointy end of a knife not an inch away from her windpipe.

"O!" Bellamy yelled as he slammed into the man from the side and hurled him off his sister.

It didn't take long from there. Lincoln and Raven had taken on the rest of the enemies and they stood, breathing heavily, over the last of the Golden, when Bellamy offered Octavia a hand that she took quickly to hoist herself up.

He gave her a quick hug and a pat on the back, and felt her fingers fist into his jacket briefly. When they parted, he looked at her, proud, and a little surprised.

"You did good out there," he acknowledged, and she raised her eyebrows, then shrugged with a small smile.

"I'm not that little Silveren girl anymore…"

Indeed, she wasn't. She had grown up a lot in the months he hadn't seen her, and she had grown darker. But he didn't have time to think about that now. Sometime he hoped he would finally be able to sit down with her and exchange stories. But first they had to get out of there, had to get Clarke and Finn. Raven was already hurrying back into the thicket after exchanging a brief glance with Bellamy, then he and the others followed, sprinting back into the forest quickly, ready to get the two others and make a run for it.

 _Please be okay, Clarke..._

* * *

...

The leader of the pack suddenly attacked Clarke, a dark ball of muscle and fur, and the other dogs had waited as if for its signal. Clarke looked to Finn, wide eyed and panicked, as the rabid animal jumped and aimed straight for her jugular, yellow teeth so close that its putrid breath almost made her throw up with revulsion before she managed to dodge the attack just before Finn's weapon came down on it with such force that its head came straight off.

He grimaced at her as she involuntarily flinched away, but she quickly caught herself and thanked him. He held out a hand that she grabbed, then they both stumbled on, Clarke picking up the largest stick she could find, brandishing it at the waiting pack. Then they hurled themselves at the wolves, killing as many as they could, before the rest finally let up and ran back into the woods, just as one last bold animal suddenly came out of nowhere, crashing into Finn from behind, making him lose his balance and fall. Clarke yelled out for him, but he was pinned down, unable to use his weapon, the wolf's teeth starting to bore into his shoulder in an attempt at getting to his neck.

No, Clarke thought. Not on her watch.

She raced toward the animal and ungracefully clobbered it until it finally let go and Finn was able to scramble back up, panting and bloodied from where the beast had gotten to him. Even then she didn't stop and just went on and on, the animal nothing but mush at that point, and she still couldn't stop, until he gently held her arm, tugging her back.

He shook his head lightly, his dark eyes full of strange compassion. "It's over," he rasped, then very quietly added, "Thanks."

* * *

...

When Bellamy finally saw Clarke again, he froze in shock for just a moment before adrenaline kicked in and propelled him forward. A good two dozen dead animals were littering the ground around them all, and there were streaks of blood on both Clarke and Finn. Somehow they looked worse than any of the others that had fought against the Golden with him.

"Clarke! Are you guys okay?" he asked and before she had a chance to reply, he wrapped his arms around her, hugging her close.

"We're okay," Clarke breathed into his shoulder, watching Finn put his arms around a shaken looking Raven, Octavia and Lincoln standing quietly to the side.

"What happened?"

She had to smile. She wanted to ask the same thing. After all, he had just come back from a fight. But she closed her eyes and briefly recounted what had happened to them.

...

Bellamy put a soothing hand on the back of her head, having seen the images as if he had been there himself. He could read in her mind how tense and terrifying the moment had truly been, and he wished he could have spared her. But the alternative wasn't much better.

"What about you?" Clarke asked then, and Octavia answered, because somehow, Bellamy couldn't bring himself to do so.

"They were scouts," she told Clarke, exchanging a weary look with Bellamy. "There's a whole army stationed out there. The forest is surrounded."

Clarke bit her lip, eyes widening in shock. "You sure?"

Bellamy nodded unhappily. "We're trapped Clarke. Unless we..." He trailed off, suddenly averting his gaze.

"Unless what?"

But again, it wasn't he who answered her. With a sigh, Octavia stepped closer, looking from Clarke to her brother, then over to Lincoln and the other two.

"We don't have much of a chance unless we go back to Lexa's shack. It isn't all that far away, and with the prospect of more Golden waiting for us, we should probably go back there and remorsefully ask for the weapon back. With two weapons - and maybe two more fighters, we might be able to make it out of the forest alive."

Clarke gasped quietly. She had hoped they had seen the last of that weapon. She looked at Bellamy, who had clenched his jaw, the prospect making him feel sick to his stomach. She could feel it, too.

There was no winning in war.

"I'll need that freaking weapon if we want to have a chance of making it out of here," he breathed, grimacing, and Clarke nodded.

 _It won't be for long_ , Clarke tried to tell him, her slender fingers coming up to touch him, just a graze against his shoulder, but it was the grounding he needed and he gave a small shudder.

The others nodded, then quickly made their way back to the cabin.


	23. A daring plan

...

When they eventually reached Lexa's little cabin, she opened her door so quickly as if she had been waiting for them all along.

She was blinking at them, an almost mirthful seeming smirk appearing on her face. "I knew you'd be back," she said directed at Bellamy, shoving the weapon back at him before any of them had even opened their mouths. But she was looking at Clarke when she continued.

"Before your over-imaginative minds get the wrong idea: no, I did not send anyone here, and I'm not going to. But I'm asking you to please leave me out of this." She waved at the weapon dismissively before continuing. "I'll make sure Indra doesn't notice until you're far away."

She paused, smiling at Clarke with a knowing look. "In fact, I'll just close my door now. Nothing out of the ordinary here, nothing I haven't seen before. This corner of the world has always been a highway of sorts, troops coming through from every direction..."

She clicked her tongue, looking back at Indra, who strangely was asleep on the couch, and Lexa was about to follow through and simply close her door, when Octavia put her foot on the threshold, squinting at the woman before them.

"What's going on here?" she demanded, jerking her head in the direction of her mentor, and Lexa smiled mildly.

"Indra... had a little too much of my tea, I'm afraid…"

"Yeah, right. I'm not leaving without her…"

Lexa smiled at her warmly. "I know you like her, and I promise you I'll take good care of her. I don't know what she told you, but probably not that she took me in as her own after my grandfather died."

Octavia looked at her wide-eyed, shocked. "She... what? She killed your grandfather."

"That, she did. To be honest, he deserved it, too. But that's a story that'll have to wait till another time. You need to leave now if you want to make it out of here."

Clarke watched the interaction between the two young women out of the corner of her eye, but she was more focused on Bellamy, who looked so unhappy that Clarke felt a pang.

 _You don't have to take it…_ she told him, lightly touching his back where no one could see it.

 _I should have just kept it. I wasn't thinking clearly. It had already taken a toll on me. But I should have kept it and just taken it off. It would have come in handy just now-_

 _Don't do that._

 _What?_

 _Blame yourself. Talk like that. You couldn't have known they'd ambush us so quickly._

 _I'm a freaking Eternal, Clarke. A soldier. - A weapon. I'm used to being hunted. I should have kept the Old One._

 _It turned out alright… Just promise me you'll only wear it if there's really no other way._

 _That's my intention._

His words were not as clear as she would have liked, but she had to accept it. If she was honest, she had been relieved when he'd finally taken off the weapon and it freaked her out that he might put it back on. She guarded those thoughts carefully, however, not wanting to upset him even more.

The conversation of the others faded back into her conscience.

"So, you're not going to tell them that we were here?" Octavia was asking Lexa and the woman shook her head.

"Like I said, I've never told them anything and I intend to keep it that way. To them, I'm just a slightly crazy, mostly mute hermit. Don't tip them off to the truth," she winked, "that I'm more than slightly crazy and love my tea strong…"

Octavia pressed her lips together.

"When will she wake up?"

"Indra?" Lexa chuckled. "Oh, she'll be fine. A good ten hours of sleep or so, and she'll be as refreshed as any one of you could only dream of. You really do look the worse for wear. I'd offer tea, but I doubt you'd want any." She grinned at all of them, her gaze resting on Clarke last.

"You'll be fine, won't you?"

Clarke nodded solemnly, still not sure what the other woman saw in her. There was a strange familiarity between them that she had a hard time placing. In a world where a Golden could bond with a Silveren, though, nothing surprised her anymore. Lexa was right. They really needed to get going, and so Clarke finally led them all back out and on their way.

Bellamy briefly turned around again before following her, looking at Lexa one last time. "Thank you," he breathed, and her smile became warmer.

"Anytime. Just watch that girl of yours. Keep her safe…"

He clenched his jaw and gave a quick nod, then he was out the door, too, hoping to never see her again.

* * *

…

Clarke shivered. Temperatures had dropped significantly once more, seeping into her bones like an illness. The rustle of twigs against twigs, the strange noises of the animals made her nerves tingle, triggering her anxiety to new levels. It was so dark that she could barely see a foot in front of her, and they all stumbled through the forest like blind people on a path into doom, guiding their horses on foot as they went. She just hoped the Golden weren't already secretly surrounding them, only to light some torches at some point to reveal themselves, showing them they had been watching since the beginning.

 _Your imagination makes me feel creeped out_ , _princess_ , Bellamy informed her, but she could feel a somewhat inappropriate amusement in his words.

She rolled her eyes even though he wouldn't see it.

 _I'm just so ready to get out of here and hopefully back to the settlement in one piece. I…_ She faltered. Maybe she shouldn't tell him that.

 _What?_

She felt rather than saw that he had strayed a little closer to her side, his horse nuzzling hers briefly, but it still felt like he was just way too far away. She longed for some alone time with him…

She bit her lip, then exhaled forcefully.

 _I just… almost wish we wouldn't have to go anywhere, wouldn't have to go out there and find that Golden you were meant to meet. I wish we could just stay at the settlement, make a living there, somehow. Hiding from the world. Just… us._

 _You know that's just a nice little dream. A place like this… like Lexa said, this is like a highway, and the settlement… well, it's just a little too close for comfort. I wouldn't want you to live anywhere near that danger…_

 _I know._

And she did. But that didn't mean she couldn't still be sad. She stifled a sudden chuckle, earning herself a stab of confusion from Bellamy's direction.

 _I'm sorry. I was just thinking… its funny how we keep oscillating between one opinion and the other. First you tell me you just want to ride off into the sunset and I tell you it'll be rewarding in the end if we keep fighting for peace, and now…_

 _It's the other way around._

 _Two sides, one coin…_

 _That's us._ He smirked. _Round and shiny. Heads and tails._

She tried not to chuckle, but for a moment, lightness was back in their lives and it was a welcome relief, even though they knew it wouldn't last all that long.

Suddenly, the moment all too quickly ended when Finn stopped, making them almost crash into him and Raven.

"We should stop here and try to rest," he suggested, and Clarke didn't like the idea one bit. Rest? In the dark of the forest? Where they couldn't see properly? But that was exactly Finn's reasoning.

"Sight is getting worse. There's no moon tonight, and I honestly can't see much more than a little ahead of myself. There's a little dip right here; we went downhill for a bit, and the underbrush is thick enough to give us a bit of shelter and shield us from any more scouts."

"Shouldn't we rather use the night for cover?" Octavia asked, and she was surprised when her brother agreed.

"O is right," Bellamy agreed, "We gotta get out of here, no one's gonna get rest in this darkness anyway."

Finn was barely visible, but when he moved, Clarke caught a glimpse of the sheen on his arm - he was still carrying his weapon, and something tensed in her. Panic coming back.

It's just Finn, she told herself, but it wasn't easy.

The situation was getting to her. She needed to get out. She needed it to be over. That weapon, that sheen… it reminded her too much of the past. What if they wouldn't make it out of the forest alive, what would she do when she would have to face her own people, framed by a couple of Silveren soldiers? She couldn't think anymore. She couldn't do this.

She couldn't...

...

 _Hey. Clarke. You okay?_

She found herself clinging to Bellamy awkwardly, not remembering when she had begun to do so, and his arms were around her, holding her close, the others just two distant figures, sitting on the ground, leaning against a fallen tree, their horses tethered right beside them. She felt Bellamy's breath in her hair, calming her, reassuring.

 _I'm sorry I made you come here. You should have stayed at the settlement…_

She shook her head, leaning against him. _No. I wouldn't have stayed behind, anyway. Besides. I'd have probably panicked even more._

She could tell that he wasn't convinced, but he didn't argue, and didn't say anything else. Instead, he slowly guided her over to where the other two were already sitting and motioned for her to do the same.

"Time to rest. Close your eyes for a little bit."

"So we agreed on stopping after all, huh?" She grinned awkwardly and was relieved when she made out Raven's genuine smile.

"We did," she said, handing Clarke what looked like a slice of bread. She stretched out a hand and took it, ridiculously grateful for something to eat. "Someone's gotta look out for you two," Raven smiled at her warmly.

"Why don't you two try and get some sleep now while we take first shift," Finn's sonorous voice startled her, as if she hadn't heard him speak in a very long time. "You saved my life today, Clarke. You're strong, so we'll need you and Bellamy as rested as possible tomorrow. We don't know what we are facing…"

She nodded; she heard Bellamy exchange a few words with his sister, but part of her was already succumbing to the pull of sleep, and the last thing she felt was how her head fell against Bellamy's chest and how his arms came around her, holding her. She hoped he was getting some rest, too, but she kind of doubted it.

 _Sleep_ , she tried to tell him, _sleep_ …

* * *

…

Morning came a minute later when Bellamy gently shook Clarke awake. She looked at him out of wide confused eyes, and pulled herself up into a more sitting position from where she had apparently spent the night leaning against him. She felt groggy and tired, because she had been woken from a very deep dreamless sleep, and was surprised to see the first rays of sun pierce the ground through the trees' canopies.

She inhaled deeply, letting the air fill her lungs for a moment before finally exhaling.

 _We gotta get going,_ Bellamy told her, and she nodded. He looked at her, cocking his head, just taking her in, then his lips curled into a smile and he kissed her, tenderly, carefully. Then with a little more passion that made her gasp.

She laid a hand against his chest, half trying to push him away, mentioning the presence of the others to him, but then she saw they were all still asleep, curled up in pairs against each other. Still, Bellamy regretfully pulled away with a sigh.

 _I know now is not the time._

 _Soon,_ she told him firmly, trying to make herself believe it, and he smiled before he got up and walked over to wake the others up.

Clarke realized that Bellamy must have been watching all of them, never waking her up to share the "shift," and she was grateful yet also concerned about it. She wished she could have spent the night with him, but she knew her body was rejoicing that she had slept through it.

* * *

...

It didn't take them long to get their things ready and be on their way. With every step they took, Clarke's anxiety grew, a prickling feeling making her uncomfortable and on edge. It was like she was knowingly walking into her own demise, and she hated it. What was awaiting them on the other side of the forest. Who? And how many?

When they finally reached the outer edges on the other side where the trees grew less dense, letting more and more light in, leaving more room to see, it was almost too easy to see what they would be facing.

Too many. There were way too many Golden soldiers. A hundred perhaps, maybe more. There was a whole camp of them. How was that even possible? And why were they there?

Clarke swallowed hard, tugging at Bellamy, who had stopped in his tracks, just like Octavia beside them. Soon, the rest of them had caught up too, and Raven clutched Finn's arm in shock.

"We're fucked," he muttered. "There's no way-"

"Let me try and talk to them," Clarke interrupted him with a daring suggestion that had just then formed in her mind. "Maybe I can lead them away." She was the only Golden in their midst, it could work.

"No." Bellamy's reply came instantly and firmly. She grabbed the lapels of his jacket and looked at him.

"It's our only chance."

"She's right," Octavia pointed out. "If they see any of us, they won't hesitate and kill us. But a fellow Golden…"

"They probably know who she is," Bellamy hissed. He was very obviously angry. "I'm not gonna let her-"

"You're not gonna let her what? Try and save her life? And ours?" Octavia challenged. "Bellamy… you know she's right." She paused. "I get it. I really do. You're worried about her. But she'll either die right away by our side. Or she can give us a fighting chance."

"There's gotta be a better way. We'll go back. We… hide and wait."

"We could never hide in here long enough. And you heard their outpost. There must have been a Bonded among them warning the main troops. They know we're here."

They all looked at him with sad sympathy. He stared at Octavia, at Raven and Finn. Finally his gaze ended on Clarke for a moment before he averted his face. His jaw was working like it did when he was agitated.

 _I can't lose you._ He wasn't looking at her when he said it.

She looked up to him, touching his face lightly, making him turn to her, making him see her, and her affection for him was threatening to spill over.

 _I can't lose you, either. And that's why I have to try._

Then she kissed him, so passionately as if there really was no chance for a tomorrow, before she forced herself to step away.

"Have an eye on him for me?" she told Octavia, and the girl nodded at her, smiling.

"I'll try and steer them away from here," she continued, "I'll tell them I lost my bond-partner. I'll… come up with something. Just… promise me you'll try and get away as soon as they're gone, and then… " _Come find me._

She gazed at Bellamy one last time, then she was off, walking out into the light, blinking as the first Golden faces turned in her direction.


	24. Arkadia

...

Bellamy stood frozen, unable to move, just watching Clarke vanish into the light. He was so tense that his muscles started protesting, his back hurting, but he didn't even care. Once he couldn't see her anymore, couldn't hear anything, he closed his eyes, breath hitching. Then he looked to his horse, to the place where he had strapped the weapon, and with a few quick movements, he pulled the bag holding it to him and unwrapped the gnarly thing.

He caught Raven watching him and their gazes met briefly as he pulled his sleeves up enough to be able to strap on the Old One. He could see something flicker in her eyes as he did, and he looked at her tiredly, making a face.

"I'm sorry," she mouthed, "this _will_ work, and we'll get her back."

He nodded halfheartedly, trying to make himself believe. But deep down he wasn't so sure. Good things never lasted in his life. Why would it be different now?

Because Clarke was different…

* * *

...

Clarke walked gingerly through the sludge, concentrating hard on the few patches of brownish grass that had started to poke through where the Golden army must have disturbed the ground the most.

"Hold up!" someone was finally yelling, and her heartbeat picked up almost unbearably.

She had warded off her mind as best as possible for the time being, not wanting to make Bellamy's worry weaken her, and vice versa. She needed to concentrate. This had to work.

"Freeze!"

She startled, blinked again, made herself pretend to stumble and whelp out a pretty pathetic sounding "Help me." She needed to play the damsel in distress and she hoped it worked.

Soon, voices came closer, faces. Golden soldiers. Her people. Yet she felt like their enemy in disguise, like they weren't truly hers anymore. She stumbled again, this time for real and saw a shadow approach her, fast and blurry, felt it slow down close to her, next to her. A suddden panic seized her, making it hard to go on, but she couldn't stop, and she didn't. They all relied on her.

Quite suddenly, a handful of soldiers walked over to her, daggers raised. They looked at her, and she could tell that they were unsure of how to proceed. Then one of them grabbed her arm, and she stared at him, wide-eyed.

"Please," she muttered. Her eyes had finally adjusted to the light out in the open, and she looked up just in time to see four riders appear right in front of her.

"Major," someone addressed one of the soldiers on horseback, "she just came out of the forest. She's one of us..."

"Of course. We've been looking for her…"

That voice… Clarke swallowed hard, stifling a gasp as she blinked against the light. The soldier was still holding her arm, asking questions.

"You're Clarke Griffin. Where's your link-partner, the Eternal? What happened?"

But she barely heard them at all. She closed her eyes, then made herself look up again just as the soldier on the horse in the middle hopped down off his steed to land in front of her. Their gazes met, and she saw… nothing. A blank stare. A frown.

"Are you alright, Ms. Griffin? Did the Eternal harm you in any way?"

"Wells," it escaped her, though of course it wasn't really him anymore.

He gazed at her, oddly calm, no smile on his features.

"Major Jaha, what shall we do with her? Interrogation?"

Wells gave the other soldier a sign, shaking his head. "I'll take care of the interrogation myself." He turned his attention to Clarke. "Ms. Griffin, follow me, please." He extended a hand, his expression so friendly she could almost see the old him in there, but then his eyes flickered and the moment was gone. The heavy coat he was wearing almost touched the ground, and she couldn't help staring at its hem for a long moment before she looked up, sighing. Seeing Wells again felt unreal, and it sent a wave of nostalgia through her. She had missed him. She still did, because this man in front of her was a stranger. With a curt nod she went with him now, forcing herself not to dwell on what they had done to him.

Too much depended on her, so much depended on how she played it. She just needed to gain some time, get the Golden to go on their way, away from the forest so that the others could sneak out. Then she could flee. And mourn her friend.

* * *

…

Wells's tent was surprisingly warm and comforting, if bare, just a bedstead and a pair of chairs in there, divided by a small rectangular desk.

"Sit, please," he said, pointing at one of the chairs while he shrugged off his coat and sat down opposite her, looking so familiar in his uniform that it stung.

How had they brainwashed him that quickly and sent him on his way? Why hadn't they kept him closer to the city? Made him a guard? Clarke had a bad feeling about all this. He might not remember her, but he was still linked to Maya, and thus had access to her memories.

Except, she had heard the way it worked, how they reprogrammed the "fallen from hope" as they called them. They didn't take the memories away per se, they just severed them from all emotion. Wells, then, was just a shell, all memories there, but no feelings, not for her, not for Maya, not for anyone, or anything. He was just a soldier, a mask.

No need to try and appeal to the goodness in him then. No need to try and remind him of how he had saved her before. She would have to go a different route.

"Where's your Eternal? We would like to have him back."

"I don't know," she muttered, staring hard at the ground. Anything to not see his empty eyes.

"We heard otherwise. That he was just here with you."

Her breath hitched, but she caught herself. "No, that's right. He is… or was. He made me go with him, he… showed his true side," she made herself force a chuckle, "I wanted to believe in the good in him, but he's an Eternal, and…well, he'll never change. I've tried running away for a while. Your… appearance here finally provided me with a chance…"

"Is that so?"

She looked up to find him staring hard at her. Did he suspect something?

"They fought some of you and that's when I slipped away. Please. I'll do whatever it takes, but can you please bring me back home? I haven't been able to talk to any of my friends there in such a long time, they might not even know what happened."

"Maya talked to them."

Clarke swallowed, flustered. "Oh. Thanks," she made herself say, feeling uncomfortable. Wells-not-Wells was such an unsettling conversational partner.

"This must be awkward for you," he allowed, inclining his head to smile at her. But it didn't reach his eyes. "I'm sorry. I realize you've known me in the past. We have history together…"

"It's alright." She looked down. "I just want to go home. I'll do what I can to help you find Bellamy. Maybe, if you lock him up…"

"We will have to do that, I'm afraid. I'm glad you are aware…"

What a strange conversation, Clarke thought. They spoke of it all so matter-of-factly, so disconnected, as if it was just business as usual.

"What do you need me to do?"

Wells smiled at her. "Getting straight to the point, I like it. Well, I hope you'll understand that we can't let you run around freely as long as your partner is still out there."

She nodded, wondering how exactly her next few days were going to look like. Would they lock her up? Chain her? That would certainly make any attempt at escape harder.

"We'll need to scour the forest before we can leave, but afterward, I'll accompany you back to command, back to your home."

"My _city_ ," she corrected; it wasn't like she had much of an actual home, and she hated that Wells of all people - even if he was just shell-Wells - was saying the word so offhandedly.

"Of course…"

His suggestion was not good, however. There was no way Bellamy and the others would evade detection, would survive if the Golden really did filter through the entire forest. She had to come up with something. Think, she told herself.

 _Tell him you saw us escape the outpost, riding toward the mountains._

 _Bellamy_. She had to concentrate hard so as not to lose it at feeling his sudden presence. It felt so good.

 _The… mountains?_

 _That way he'll think he has an advantage. The mountains are closer to the side he's already on. If he doesn't go through the forest, he might think he'll be able to catch us. - It'll also bring you closer to the city._

Arkadia…

The city where she had spent the last few years. The thought alone was jarring.

 _You'll be safer there, until I can come and get you. And you'll already be where we need to go…_

She pressed her lips together, looking up to see Wells frown at her.

"They're not in the woods anymore," she suddenly said, clearly surprising him. She had to make it seem like she was very reluctant to tell him that. "Please don't make me regret this," she muttered, and she felt Wells's hand lightly touch her shoulder as he was squinting at her now.

"Where did they go, Clarke? Did you feel anything? See anything?"

She worried her lip, pretending to be even more uneasy than she already was. "That bond is really nothing," she told him, "it's… I can barely feel he's there. His pain, that's all."

"Pain?" Wells's frown deepened.

"From the weapon?"

"I see..."

"But yes," Clarke continued, looking at him through her lashes, "I saw them. They… killed some of our people, I couldn't… I had to try and get away…"

"It's alright. I'm not blaming you." Wells's touch intensified, and she had to remind herself that he wasn't the man she had known anymore. This was Wells without whatever had made him human before, compassionate. "Where did they go?"

Her next words were a mere rasp, her voice sounding broken and used up. "Toward the mountains. - Promise me they won't kill him, or I'll be dead too…"

"You have my word." His eyes were impenetrable, and Clarke had to look away when she whispered in reply.

"Thank you…"

* * *

…

They didn't stay long after that. Wells had allowed her to rest in his tent for a moment while the soldiers packed up, giving her time to collect herself. Except, she couldn't get her anxiety under control. Suddenly she felt like she was missing a part of herself. Bellamy being away from her, it just didn't feel right at all. Ever since they had first met face to face, when he had been a prisoner of war and she still just a newly bonded, they hadn't spent a day without the other.

 _I'm still here_ , he let her know, a warm feeling washing over her as he did.

 _I know._

But it just wasn't the same. She wanted to feel him again, see him, touch his lips with her finger...

 _It won't be for long._

 _It'll still be too long. And what if-_

 _No_ , he said, interrupting her, knowing what she wanted to say. _Don't even go there. It'll all work out. You had the right idea._

Clarke couldn't help but think that he was only saying it to make her feel better. After all, he hadn't wanted her to go. But she couldn't dwell on those thoughts, because suddenly Wells popped his head back in, telling her, "A few more minutes; my men will come and pack up the tent now, and then we'll be off. I hope you're ready to get back on a horse."

She nodded, meeting his gaze head-on.

"Good. See you in a few minutes then. Get ready to return back into Golden lands. You still have a future, Clarke."

He smiled at her, and she tried not to grimace. Still, she hoped he was right, that she did have a future, just not the kind he probably envisioned for her.

* * *

…

Later, when she was riding beside him, flanked by a few of his men - surely to keep a close eye on her, ruling out the possibility of her making a dash for it, she couldn't believe it all was really happening. She saw the forest vanish behind her, and her heart filled with sudden hope and anticipation. Her friends would be able to leave soon, get to safety.

At the same time, however, she was also weighed down by the fact that the distance between her and Bellamy was growing even more, and fast.

She was back on her way to where she had come from. Home, Wells had called it. But Clarke felt so very detached from that notion, as if the Golden lands, her city, Arkadia, was simply not her place anymore. It hadn't even been that long since she had left. A few months, she had honestly lost track of time, yet it felt like an eternity. This then, would not be coming home.

They went on their way, hundreds of horse feet stomping the ground, soldiers in Golden uniforms flowing like waves around her, making her feel like she was stuck in some surrealistic dream. Then the world around her started to blur, she lost sight of the woods, where Bellamy was still hiding, and suddenly she saw the trees again as if she was back in the forest.

She was thinking of Bellamy, and it had opened her a path into his mind. She saw what he saw, felt what he felt, all while riding on the back of a horse...

* * *

…

The pain had dulled considerably since Bellamy had first put Lexa's bandage on. The feeling, or lack thereof, was so foreign that he found himself touching his arm, almost as if to check that it was still there.

"She really did it," Raven was whispering in awe, and he clenched his jaw as he followed her gaze, watching the Golden troops ride into the opposite direction.

There had been a small team of four soldiers that had walked into the forest, just a mile or so in, and they had had to hide from them, knowing that killing them would have only resulted in the enemy catching on to the fact that they were still there.

One tense minute long it had seemed like one of the Golden would detect Octavia in her hideout. The man had heard a noise, had stuck his head right where she was lying under a tree stump. She had stared at her brother, wide-eyed but oddly calm, and he had held his breath alongside her, ready to blow his cover if need be. Bellamy had pulled his weapon forward, barely held back by Lincoln, who had given him a look, shaking his head, trusting in Octavia in a way only someone could who had seen her in combat, who had spent the last few months right by her side. Bellamy had glared at him angrily, before calming down somewhat, just as the Golden soldier had suddenly turned away again, signaling something to his comrade.

All clear.

And then… they had been alone in the forest, and the enemy had moved out. With Clarke.

Bellamy rushed over to his sister quickly, pulling her up and into a desperately fierce hug. "You're okay," he told her, trying to convince himself more than her, and she choked out a stifled chuckle.

"I know." Her hands on his back, she held onto him with sudden desperation, and they stood like that for a long moment.

...

Right then he remembered how Clarke had lost her footing for a bit when Wells had reappeared.

 _I'm sorry it had to be Wells_ , Bellamy had told her, feeling her obvious distress. He had been shocked to see the man again, too, but of course it hadn't affected him like it had her. After all, Bellamy had barely gotten to know the man.

 _I kinda wish I had never seen him again_ , she had communicated back when she was already riding away.

 _You didn't. This is not him anymore. Not your friend…_

He had had to sever their connection at that point, in order to focus back on his own situation, not knowing how Clarke was coping. Now here he was. Getting ready to ride back to the settlement alongside Octavia, Lincoln, Finn and Raven. Their little group was finally ready to leave, preparing their horses for the ride back. They were free to go, because of Clarke. She had done it. She had sacrificed herself for them, but he wasn't going to give up on her, let her go. No, he would come for her, find her.

He didn't know what his sister wanted to do, or the others, where they wanted to go from there, where they _could_ go. Maybe they wanted to stay, or leave. But it didn't matter.

All he knew was where _he_ needed to go, where he needed to _be_. With Clarke. He needed to find her, free her if he had to, then find his contact and try to end the pain for all.

"You okay?" Raven had come to ride beside him, giving him a strange look, and he nodded.

"Let's go."

And off they went, as fast as their horses would carry them. He half expected the bloody dogs or wolves or any other forest creatures to show up and threaten them again, but thankfully their flight remained unperturbed and they quickly reached the semi safety of the town. Just one more night there, and he would be off.

 _I love you, princess. Stay safe…_

 _I love you, Bellamy. Come for me._

 _I will._

* * *

…

Bellamy knew he had to wait for distance to build up between them, so that he would have a chance to remain hidden, following their tracks, but always far enough away so that they wouldn't know he was there, couldn't catch him.

He had almost forgotten how strong love could be, hadn't known he was capable of loving anyone besides his sister, until he had met Clarke Griffin. He couldn't give that up again, couldn't give _her_ up.

 _How's the day been?_ he asked her when the yearning got too strong, when he was sleeplessly lying in bed, waiting for morning so that he could finally go on his way.

 _We've made good way. Wells is apparently very eager to get me back. Or, should I say, he's very eager to catch you._

 _Well, I_ am _a stunning specimen_ , Bellamy joked and he could almost see her roll her eyes in that way of hers, huffing out, blowing a strand of rogue hair away as she did. It made him smile.

They talked for a little while longer before he let her go. She had been dozing off for a while by then, her strange dreams threatening to spill over from their shared space, but he didn't mind. Not this time. He would gladly dream with her if it meant he got to be there for when she had her nightmare again so he could wake her up.

But the nightmare didn't come, and eventually he, too, fell asleep, only to wake up once morning was there.

* * *

…

* * *

...

Night was already falling the day they finally made it to the city's outer perimeter. It had taken them days to get back. The weather hadn't helped at all. It was as if nature couldn't decide between winter and spring and it had rained a lot, then frozen over, only to snow or rain again come next day. Clarke was tired of it. Tired of the cold, of winter, of having wet feet and wet clothes stick to her body. She had developed a bit of a cold, worrying Bellamy more. But she tried to assure him that it wasn't bad, nothing like what either of them had had to endure before. The worst, though, was the fact that the closer they got, the less of an idea Clarke had about how best to escape certain incarceration.

"You'll understand that we can't let you leave before we've found the Eternal," Wells repeated, his rising frustration evident.

He had clearly been hoping to be able to catch Bellamy before entering the city, but there had - not surprisingly to her, of course - not been a trace of him. She had done her best to act surprised, shocked even, afraid.

"You have to find him!" she implored Wells, "Please! What if he kills himself, or…"

"I'll do what I can," he said, looking so uncomfortable that it pained her. She simply couldn't get over the familiarity of his face. To see no emotions behind his intense eyes was the worst. But at least he had believed her so far.

As they were waiting for the city's guard to allow them in, Wells leaned slightly over to her.

"How long before he hurt you?"

Clarke opened her mouth, startled, and was spared an answer, when suddenly, a sergeant with the guards uniform showed up and waved them through.

It was really happening. She was back where it all had started.

 _Where are you? s_ he asked Bellamy in her mind, longing to hear from him.

 _Not far…_

 _How will you ever make it past the guard if I'm still locked up? How will you-_

 _I'll find a way,_ he interrupted her, clearly noticing her worry. He was so calm. _.. You just do whatever you have to, and I'll figure out the rest._

 _Just… please be safe._

 _Don't worry about me, princess. I'm almost there._

How she hoped it was true, hoped it would be over soon.

"This way," Wells ordered, and she nodded absently, directing her horse the same way as his.

They rode for a little while longer, exhaustion finally making her tired and sluggish. They were in the middle of the military district, any building there could be their destination. She was about to ask Wells how much longer it would take, when she heard an all too familiar voice and froze.

"Hello Clarke."

A figure on the stairs of a large dark building to her left stepped closer, pulling away the hood of a long black military coat.

"Maya…"


	25. Escape

...

Maya slowly walked down the stairs until she came to stand right in front of Clarke.

"It's good to see you," she said, giving her a hug that felt almost sincere. Yet Clarke didn't trust it. She simply didn't trust Maya. Not any more. She was still in shock. For some reason the thought that she would ever get to see either of the friends who had betrayed her again had never once crossed her mind. But here they were, as if no time had passed. Maya still looked exactly the same, friendly eyes, slightly unkempt hair framing her face, a warm smile playing around her lips.

"Wells told me everything, as of course you know."

Clarke raised her chin, wary, but Maya didn't seem to notice. She took Clarke's arm, intertwining hers with it, then said, "Let's get you settled in first. Then we can talk."

All Clarke could do was nod dumbly. Then she briefly looked back to where Wells was still waiting, saluting Maya as if they were nothing but work partners, before he abruptly walked off, leaving Clarke with an empty and unresolved feeling.

Was that really it? Was that going to be the last time she saw him?

* * *

…

"It's sad, isn't it?"

Maya gave her a truly upset look that almost made Clarke want to give her a hug. They were sitting across from each other in what looked to be some kind of interrogation room. There were no windows, just bare gray walls on all sides, and it was almost as cold as the room they had kept Bellamy in when she had first met him.

"What is?" she asked, one hand absently playing with the fur on her coat.

Maya licked her lips. "Wells. He's been collateral damage, so to speak. Clarke, you…"

Clarke suddenly felt stricken. "I never wanted for any of this to happen."

"I know." Maya took her hand, holding it in her lap for a while. When she looked up, there was a fondness in her features that Clarke didn't feel she deserved. "I'm sorry if our plan upset you," her friend continued, "I know you thought you and… Bellamy," she said the name so delicately that Clarke had to stifle a laugh, "that you could work it out. I know you thought you were protecting him. He had you going there, didn't he?"

Maya's saccharine sympathy made her want to gag. Was she playing with Clarke? Or did they really all believe her now?

 _Be careful_. _I don't trust her._ Bellamy's presence made her feel calmer instantly. He had a way of knowing when she needed him and popped up right then. Or maybe she overrode his mind whenever she was too desperate, she wasn't sure.

 _Neither do I,_ she told him, then focused back on Maya.

"He really did," she said in her best defeated voice, looking down on the ground. "I… I never meant to harm our people. I hope they know that, _you_ know that."

"Of course. I know you could never hurt a fly, not to mention your own people."

Clarke swallowed, forcing herself to look up. "I just couldn't stand the torture," she said, and honest tears started welling in her eyes at the mere memory, which was good for her little performance, but it ached her heart. Those memories held so much pain… She shivered, pulling her coat closer around herself. "I could feel it, you know? Back then I thought it was just because of the link and all, but," she huffed, "turns out I just needed to learn to ward off my mind better. He had used the pain to get to me. He was _using_ me. Even back then, he was already using me. Appealing to my sympathy. And of course it worked."

"I thought the link wasn't very well established?" Maya frowned at her, and Clarke had to concentrate hard to not let her instant worry show. Her cheeks felt flushed, and she could only hope that the cold from outside had already made her face look rosier so that Maya wouldn't notice anything. Thinking quickly, she tried to find a convincing answer.

"It isn't. It's… rudimentary at best. Nothing like what you described. Which is, I guess, why I fell for it when he pleaded with me to help him. He must have… sent all his pain my way so that I couldn't take it anymore. I…" She faltered, acutely aware of the fact that Bellamy could hear her. It pained her to paint him in such a bad light. He didn't deserve it. But when she searched for his presence, all she could feel were his barriers. He had shielded himself from her, and it made her anxious.

"We should have found a better way," Maya unexpectedly admitted, making Clarke frown at her. "When you said the link wasn't well established, we should have talked about options. We should have informed you about our plan, not have you run into it unknowingly. But we couldn't be sure… we thought… if there was a chance you two developed more than just a bond, we couldn't risk you jeopardizing our plan. We needed the information he could have provided." She chuckled unhappily. "Of course that didn't work out so well anyways, part of which is obviously Wells' fault. And he paid for that, too. _We_ did…"

She fell silent, and Clarke didn't really know what to think anymore. What to feel. Maya had just admitted to having botched the plan, and Clarke suddenly wondered how things might have turned out if they had told her everything right from the start. If they had all pretended together that she was helping Bellamy flee. Would she still have ended up falling in love with him? Would Wells still be himself?

"It's my fault," she quietly allowed, "what happened with Wells. Had I not believed in the good of a vile enemy-"

Maya held up a hand, shaking her head. "No," she whispered, interrupting Clarke. "It was his decision to make. I warned him. I can't really blame him, either, because he thought he was protecting you, but… deep down I'm still upset with him. And he doesn't even care anymore."

To Clarke's horror, she saw tears run down Maya's face, and she couldn't hold back the urge to hug her this time, apologizing quickly when she let go of the other girl again.

"It's okay," Maya waved her off, giving a small chuckle. "I'm sorry. It's still a bit of a sore subject. How could we screw this up so badly? Your link..." She bit her lip, scrutinizing Clarke with an abruptly more serious expression. "You do know that unfortunately we can't let you go until we've found your partner, right?"

Clarke nodded, still wary. "Of course."

"General Wallace and his staff won't believe any of what you just said until you've proven to us that you haven't turned traitor. Of course _I_ know, but... They'll want you to dissect your partner's mind as best as possible."

Clarke swallowed. The moment in which she had briefly entertained the possibility of it somehow working out for her to stay friends with Maya had passed as quickly as it had come. There would never be a chance for that again.

"Will it involve torture again?"

Maya nodded her head, pressing her lips together before replying. "Those Eternals… it's the only language they speak, I'm afraid. I'm sure you've found that out by now, too."

Despite feeling a sudden anger rise in her, Clarke gave her best impression of looking humbled and scared, and it worked. Maya shot her a concerned look, inclining her head.

"He hurt you, didn't he?"

Clarke felt like a traitor, like she was betraying everything she had with Bellamy, when she nodded her head, whispering, "Yes."

 _It's alright, Clarke. I know you're saying what you have to in order to keep up the ruse._

She sighed with relief when she felt him again, though she quickly put on a more stoic expression so as not to tip Maya off to his presence in her head.

 _It's so good to hear you_ , she told him, just as Maya was addressing her again.

"I'm sorry, Clarke. - Listen, our best Bonded will show you tricks on how best to ward your mind off, meditation techniques, too, to make it through any pain he could force your way. You'll just have to dig into his brain and get us that information. We want to destroy those Silveren, once and for all, and we'll start with their Eternals."

Clarke exhaled, closing her eyes. "What if they hurt him too badly, what if his brain can't take my probing…"

"We won't let him die," Maya assured her, seemingly thinking that was her friend's only concern. "And if he turns into a vegetable, well, that shouldn't affect you. In fact, something similar will actually be your reward for your work: once you're done, once you've succeeded in getting the information we need - and I know you will - our doctors will perform a lobotomy on him and he won't ever be able to harm you again. We'll lock him away forever, and you'll be free." She gave Clarke a pointed stare before amending, "Just like Wells wanted."

Maya looked almost triumphant, her eyes gleaming. It was so unlike her that Clarke was positively shocked and could barely hide it. Sweet Maya, rejoicing in something so horrible…

All Clarke wanted was to get out of there, away from her, from Arkadia, as far away as possible, never to return. She was ready to try and escape on her own if she had to. She didn't want to spend another minute there.

 _I'm almost there, princess._

 _Hurry._

* * *

…

Bellamy rubbed his eyes with both hands, digging his fists in as if to gauge them out, then he blinked against the sun on her descending arc. Only a few more hours until dusk would send the world into darkness.

He was so tired. He hadn't slept much since Clarke had been gone. He had kept his resting periods at a minimum, and mostly so that his horse and the others who had accompanied him would get some down time, while he had sat leaning against a rock or tree, always vigilant, only ever dozing off for a bit here and there.

He didn't want to lose time. He didn't want Clarke to be in danger. He needed to get her out. He needed her _with_ him, and so he kept pressing onward, despite the others' insistence that he needed rest, too. The night before he had eventually lost a fight against them. Abby, Octavia, and Raven had all layed into him, and he had finally succumbed and slept for a few hours.

He was a little annoyed that the doc had insisted on accompanying them. Despite the fact that she was Clarke's mother, he didn't trust her. Finn quite obviously shared his sentiments and always kept a wary eye on the woman, tense and uneasy. They just didn't know where to place her, whether she was still working for either the Golden or the Silveren.

"Abby?!" Raven had looked at him incredulously when he and Finn had carefully told her about their objections to her coming on the trip, but at least Octavia had been more understanding.

"We all make mistakes, Bellamy," she had said, "Can you say that you haven't? No. Neither can I. Neither can Abby."

"It just so happens that she is the only infiltrator among us," Bellamy had argued, "How can we trust that she isn't merely doing the same here in the Neutral Zone?"

"We can't." Octavia had swallowed and looked at him soberly. "But she's a trained doctor and on a mission like ours - if it's really true what you told us about that man being able to stop the war - she'll be indispensable.

With a sigh, he had nodded, and now here they were, ready to bust Clarke out and end the terror.

"Let's go," he said and dug his heels into the horse's sides once more. The poor animal was exhausted, too. He would have to let it go soon. Thankfully, they had finally reached the beginnings of the Outskirts, from where they could already see the city's lights.

He knew that Clarke had merely arrived the night before, which gave him hope. They hadn't processed her case yet, she was still waiting in a small cell-like room, "not a prison," as Maya had apparently told her, but with a guard in front of the door, and no windows.

Bellamy had no idea, yet, how best to get her out of there. He would probably have to wait until she was transferred somewhere else, until she was back out in the open. Night would be good. Anything to give him - and then her - a better chance to hide and stay out of sight. He would have to hurry, sneak into the city, past the guards, and look for her. Wait for her.

...

Once they got within reach of the tall outer walls surrounding the city, they jumped off their horses and took whatever they needed out of the bags. He and Finn had to stow away their weapons. They couldn't be found out or they would surely await execution. Eternals in Arkadia, that was an unheard of event. Wrapped in long pieces of heavy cloth, they swung their weapons over their backs and hoped no one would ask any questions about their peculiar packs.

Bellamy quickly checked that his bandage wasn't showing, pulling his sleeves over his hands to make sure. He wished he could have worn gloves, but no glove would fit over his thickly bandaged hand so he had given up trying.

Part of him regretted that he and the others wouldn't be able to enter the city together, that they had to split up now, only to meet again later. But sneaking one Eternal into a Golden city was already dangerous enough, two at the same time was pretty much impossible. So the plan was for Finn and Raven to hide in a small nearby forest with Lincoln, while he, Octavia, and Abby went in search of Clarke.

He watched as his sister hugged Lincoln tight, kissing the man with so much passion that he had to look away. He was happy for her, he really was, yet part of him still saw her as the young innocent girl she had once been and the changes were sometimes jarring.

"We gotta get going, O," he muttered, and she shot him a glance, raising a finger at him.

"Just one more moment," she said and kissed Lincoln once more. "May we meet again, soon," she breathed, and he smiled. Then, just as quickly, her usual resolute facade was back up and she was ready to go.

Bellamy sniffed, standing up tall, and patted her on the shoulder briefly. "I'm glad to have you with me."

She wagged an eyebrow at him, tilting her head. "Yeah, you should be." She chuckled, and he smirked at her briefly, before they finally walked the horses over to the nearest control point, where they began waiting in line behind a few other people that wanted to get into the city before the gates closed at nightfall. He tried to calm his breathing, tried to relax, and when it was finally their turn to step in front of one of the Golden soldiers guarding the city, he had almost made himself believe that he really was calm.

"Name?"

"Murphy," he said, remembering one of the few Golden names he had come across.

"Who you traveling with?" The guard was all business.

Bellamy swallowed. "My sister and my—"

"Boss," Abby piped up behind him, smiling at the guard warmly. "Small business..."

The guard nodded and Bellamy's heart calmed down a little more.

"Purpose of your stay?"

Bellamy tried to smile, forcing himself to look less like an intimidating dark tall stranger to the shorter Golden, and more like a friendly and agreeable man. The soldier gave him a scrutinizing frown.

"Family business, we're only passing through for work..." He grinned, beginning to feel like the guard was suspecting something, just when Abby put a hand on his arm.

"Sir, we've been traveling a while. Do you happen to know whether there is a place we could get some drinks?"

The man didn't reply, instead asking, "Where you headed after this?"

Bellamy grimaced. The man was clearly not up for some small talk. Fine. He could be all business, too.

"The coast."

The man frowned. "That's a long way still."

Bellamy rolled his eyes as if annoyed with the prospect. "Oh ya."

The guard quickly peeked into the bags strapped to their horses, then indicated the pack on Bellamy's bag.

"What's that?"

"Tent rods. We're camping a lot out there. Not many cities like the one you have here. Plus, it's cheaper. Boss lady likes to save money." He winked at Abby and she played along.

"No use wasting money that could go in your paycheck instead, Murph'."

He had to force himself not to chuckle at her performance and was glad when the soldier thankfully seemed to believe them and finally waved them through. Bellamy tapped his head by way of greeting then walked right through, quickly followed by Octavia and Abby.

They exchanged a glance but didn't dare speak to each other yet. They were already inside the city perimeter, when the Golden suddenly called out again with a "Hey!"

They froze for just a split second, then Bellamy turned around.

"Try the Old Brewery ," the man said, and Bellamy felt himself breathe easier instantly. "It's just down the road there. They newly opened a few rooms right across the street, and their prices for drinks can't be beat. There's also stables not too far…"

"Thanks man, appreciate it."

"I've done that trek, coast to coast," the guard said with a half nod, "it's not fun. But you gotta do what you gotta do, am I right?"

Suddenly Bellamy had the strange feeling that he didn't quite catch on to the true meaning and importance of such a trek, but he nodded anyways, then went on his way with the two women, thinking about the guard's words for a while.

* * *

…

Of course they never went to the Brewery. They found someone to give them a few coins for the horses, not enough by a long shot, but it didn't matter and they only took the money to keep up appearances anyways.

Then they went on their way to find the place Clarke had shown Bellamy in her mind. She still wasn't very good at noting landmarks and remembering directions, so it took him a while, and he had to smile at the jumble she had transferred to him. She had tried so hard to pay attention, and it still wasn't much.

 _I'm sorry._

His smile deepened. _I've always enjoyed a little challenge._

 _Yeah, well, I think our situation is challenging enough as it is._

 _You do have a point, princess._

He wanted to let himself float in their banter, wanted to sit down somewhere, with a nice warm drink, just rest for a while, with her calming voice in his head, but of course that wasn't going to happen. They had to come up with a plan to free her before anyone realized she had been lying all along.

Wells was apparently already back out there, searching for Bellamy, upset and disappointed that Clarke's tip hadn't led to his capture. It wouldn't be long before he suspected what had really happened, and they needed to get Clarke out before he could contact Maya about it.

...

Eventually, Bellamy, Octavia and Abby made their way to the place where the Golden military held Clarke and decided to hide in a small alley between two houses on the other side of it. As so often in life, a way had opened up where there hadn't seemed to be one before, and Clarke suddenly contacted him with valuable information.

 _They'll bring me over to General Wallace in an hour,_ she informed him, and he could feel her barely contained excitement.

 _Where's that?_

 _I don't know. But Maya just came back to tell me, and she said that the General asked for this meeting specifically._

 _Why would he need to see you this late, when he had all the time to meet you earlier?_

Bellamy was instantly alert and even more worried, but Clarke exuded a strange calm.

 _Apparently he was on some mission. Just got back and learned about me. And he wants to see me now because he'll have to leave again early in the morning._

He forced himself to take a deep breath. _Okay_ …

This was good then. It had to be. Someone would be coming over to get her, an escort of sorts, and they would get a chance to intercept them once they had guided Clarke outside.

He would have to put his weapon on soon if he wanted to have a real chance, though. He grimaced at the thought of potentially causing Clarke more trauma that way. Up until then she had never seen him fight with an Eternal Weapon, after all. She hadn't really seen a weapon in action up close since the day her father had been slain.

Bellamy clenched his jaw, trying not to think about it. Then he told Octavia and Abby the news.

* * *

…

When the handful of soldiers came and escorted Clarke over to the General, she got to see Maya once again, just for a short moment.

"I'll wait up for you," she told Clarke, smiling at her friend as if there was no awkwardness in the fact that she expected her back to be sleeping in her prison of a room. They could call it whatever they wanted, but it was a prison, a cell with no windows. Clarke sighed, making herself smile at Maya.

Deep down she was glad that the other girl wouldn't be coming with her, because she was terrified of what Bellamy might have to do to the soldiers accompanying her. There was no real chance for it all to go down peacefully, she knew that, and it made her heart grow heavy. She took in the few men and women around her, looked at them, their blank faces, guarded, yet still so unsuspecting. To them, it was probably just another task to fulfill before they could return to guard duty outside the city.

She tried not to think of the fact that they all had families, people to worry about them, mourn them…

And then she was out there, the cold night assaulting her face with a gust of freezing air as soon as she stepped out, and she half welcomed the feeling because it reminded her that she was still alive, that freedom was out there.

"Follow us, please," a female sergeant that seemed to be in charge told her, jolting her out of her thoughts, grabbing her arm lightly, more as if to remind her that she wasn't really free to go than actively holding her back. Clarke did as she was told, looking down on the ground beneath her so as not to tip anyone off by scanning her periphery for a sign of Bellamy.

They kept walking through deserted streets. Barely anyone was out anymore that late. It was after curfew, after all, so that part was not surprising. Clarke felt anticipation creep up her body in a layer of goosebumps and she hated that feeling. She was ready for it all to be over. There was no sign that anything was out of the ordinary. No sign of Bellamy. Up until then, she hadn't yet dared to even think beyond her initial freeing, but suddenly she couldn't think about anything else. They still had to go find that man Bellamy had mentioned, the Golden that claimed to know a way out of the war, a way to stop the Eternal Weapons, a way to heal Eternal Wounds.

But when, how, where, when the entire Golden army would surely be coming after them? All those questions were still unanswered. Would they really be able to get anywhere with that mission?

…

Out of the corner of her eye, she suddenly noticed movement. One of the soldiers had turned around as if he had spotted something, and he was giving his comrades a hand signal. Quickly, she found herself in their midst, shielded on all sides. She could feel the tension rise.

"What's going on?" she whispered, and was immediately shushed like an ornery child. It didn't sit well with her at all, not even in her current situation. But she kept quiet anyway, because she knew there was no use in complaining about something so unimportant.

Finally, the sergeant quietly informed her that they had spotted movement. "Probably nothing, but with your… special connection we can't be careful enough."

Clarke nodded, biting the insides of her cheeks.

 _They're on to something, Bellamy_ , she tried to warn him, just when she suddenly saw him casually step out of the shadows to the side, a half smirk on his face, shiny weapon slightly dulled under the thick fabric of a long coat he was wearing. Behind him, she could discern two other silhouettes, and she gasped at recognizing her mom and Octavia. He hadn't come alone.

"Hand her over and you may live," he said, his voice so cold, so level as she had never heard it before. She saw it now, how others might have seen him before, intimidating, terrifying, and maybe... a little mesmerizing.

"Fuck," one of the Golden cursed, springing into a fighting stance while another one tried shoving Clarke away.

"I don't want to hurt you, but I will. This is my last warning, as a courtesy to the lady." He waved an arm at Clarke. "Let her go, or I will have to use this." He swung the weapon in a half arc, "And I really don't want that."

His words sounded oddly sincere, even to the startled Golden. Clarke could see two of them hesitate. She almost wanted to urge them to run away already. But then the moment passed and all hell broke loose around her as two Golden soldiers decided to run toward Bellamy and his shadowy companions, one of them taking out a firearm, and Clarke ran too, fearing the worst. When she didn't hear the expected loud noise, she blinked, but went on. Someone was yelling for her to stop, one of the soldiers, but she ignored him and ran further toward Bellamy, toward her mom.

There were flashes of an eerie light as Bellamy fought the sudden onslaught from the Golden. He was wielding his weapon so effortlessly, so deathly, slicing through the first soldier that tried to attack him with way too much ease.

Clarke stood frozen, body shrinking against the wall of a house and for a horrible moment she felt like a mere spectator in her own life.

She saw him again, then, in her mind's eye: the Eternal that had killed her dad. She suddenly noticed how different his movements had been from Bellamy's, less "elegant," if she even dared think of it that way, less lithe and swift, but brute and just as lethal. Just as horrifying. She had to close her eyes, had to reinforce her barriers to keep her sanity.

 _I'm sorry._

She didn't even know whether it was him or her communicating those words before the connection was severed. Maybe it was both of them.

* * *

…

When it was over, there was a moment in which she heard nothing but silence, then her own breathing. Then she felt the wall of the building in her back, the ground under her feet, the cold wind against her heated cheeks. She blinked, taking a step forward.

And then she saw _him_. Still standing there, grim face averted as he was busy trying to take off his weapon, then he looked over to her, and his expression changed, to something pained, sad, but also… relieved.

"Clarke."

She ran to him, forgetting everything, not looking at the fallen bodies on the ground, not looking at their gleaming wounds. She had only eyes for him, and she flew into his arms, distantly noticing a harsh clatter as he dropped the weapon on the ground to embrace her, strong arms coming around her, holding her close.

"Bellamy," she choked out, her throat too constricted to talk much, and she knew it was for the better anyway.

"We need to hurry. I'm… so sorry, I never wanted-"

She placed a finger on his lips, stopping him. "I know," she whispered, then kissed him fiercely, her teeth clashing against his before they pulled apart. As he swiftly picked up his weapon, her mother came out of the darkness to embrace her, and it felt so good, so familiar, that she wished she would never have to let go again.

"Oh mom..."

"It's alright, Clarke. It's over now."

They broke apart eventually, Bellamy pulling her close quickly, nodding to his sister who gave Clarke the smallest of smiles as she walked past her to go to her brother.

"We should split up," Clarke eventually made herself say, even though she hated the idea. "They'll be coming for us, but if we separate, we can lose them easier."

It was their best chance. Octavia nodded, just as Bellamy wanted to argue.

"She's right, Bellamy. They're looking for you two. Abby and I will try and connect with Lincoln, Finn and Raven, make sure they get into the city ASAP. You and Clarke," she jerked her head at them, "you'll have to try and lay low until we can get to you."

"There's a shed not far from here," Abby suddenly suggested, her voice raspy, as if she didn't want to say it. "You should hide there until we can get you..."

Clarke pressed her lips together, her mouth dry. She nodded at her mom, waiting until she was done haphazardly jotting down directions.

"Thank you," she whispered, and Abby smiled wistfully.

"Just promise me you'll stay safe."

They smiled at each other briefly, tears welling in their eyes, and Clarke nodded ever so slightly.

"You too."

Out of the corner of her eye she saw Bellamy hug his sister briefly, before Octavia eventually urged them all to get going, easing out of the embrace.

"See you on the other side," she then told Bellamy, and off they all ran in different directions without another word, quick steps leading them into the dark and the shadows, away.

* * *

…

They didn't know where they were running, they just ran until their lungs were burning, until they were far far away from everything, until they found themselves collapsing against the wooden planks of the empty shed Abby had told them about.

It was over. They had each other back. But there was no knowing for how long. Soon, the dead soldiers would be detected; soon, the Golden army would come looking for her - for them - all over the city. They had to come up with their next step.

But right now, they were too spent, heaving breaths shaking their bodies, and they couldn't think clearly. When Clarke had caught her breath a little, she finally turned to look at Bellamy, whose arm she felt right next to hers, and she grabbed his hand, holding it tight.

To her dismay, she suddenly noticed how shiny his eyes were, how distraught he was, and she quickly cupped his face and told him, "We'll be alright, Bellamy. I don't know how, yet, but we'll make it out of here."

"I'm sorry," he muttered, upset, "I know what you must think of me."

She shook her head, a mild if sad smile appearing on her face. "Don't. We got out, that's all that matters."

But she could feel his revulsion, his pain, his self-hatred, and she gently took his left arm, not budging when he wanted to pull it away, and she pushed back his sleeves to examine his blazing scar.

"Where's the bandage?" she whispered, feeling his pulsing pain suddenly wash over her, and he quietly jerked his head toward the pocket of his coat, moving to take it out. But she was faster. She grabbed the firm fabric and got to work, wrapping it tightly around his arm. He clenched and unclenched his jaw, looking at her as she went about her task.

"You got me out," she told him, gently resting her hands on his chest once she was done.

"I killed your people. You saw. I…" _can't be a monster in your eyes, Clarke. You and O, you're all I got. I can't lose you._

"It's okay," she whispered, "you're not a monster, Bellamy. You're the man I love."

He looked at her unhappily, but she saw a flicker of life return to his eyes, and she felt his pain dull considerably.

"That bandage is pretty amazing," she muttered, surprised how much better he was feeling with it. He gave her a dark look, nodding.

"Yes," he allowed, "maybe to make up for how horrible the Old Ones are..."

She bit her lip, looking at him with concern, affectionately. She sighed, then nodded at the Old One, unable to bring herself to say the word. "Let's pack this up." He understood her anyways, and quickly moved to do as she had suggested. "We shouldn't stay here too long."

She tugged at his arm again when the weapon was all wrapped up, making him look at her. "I mean it," she said earnestly, "I love you."

His breath shuddered. "I don't deserve you."

"Yes you do, with all that entails. I'll leave it to you to judge whether that is a blessing or a curse."

She saw his expression lighten, an almost smile on his face, and it warmed her heart. She kissed him again, and this time, it turned into something more. The days they had been separated suddenly fell off of them, the horrors and stress from the last few hours got buried, had to be buried for the moment, until they were better equipped to deal with them.

Right now, all she needed to be able to function again was Bellamy, and she kissed him fiercely, letting her hand run under his clothes as he pulled her down on the straw with him, the dusty smell assaulting her nostrils as he did, but she couldn't have cared less.

All she wanted was him, his skin on hers, him inside of her, his tongue in her mouth, his fingers on her most tender parts, and she got it all, and more. As she came, her legs wrapped around him, his fingers on her, his head against her chest, her hands digging into his back, she finally felt whole again.

They would make it out of there, she knew it.


	26. Kane

…

When exhaustion took over, both Clarke and Bellamy eventually fell asleep within minutes of laying down in the musty straw, arms around each other.

Only when dawn was already beginning to light up the sky, awakening the city, did Clarke wake up again with a start, quickly tugging at Bellamy.

Shooting upright, he stared at her wide-eyed. "Shit," he cursed, wiping a hand over his face when his senses had come back completely, and he quickly moved to get up, grabbing his clothes. "Shouldn't have fallen asleep like that. The hell was I thinking? We should have stayed up to make sure—"

"Bellamy." With a mild expression Clarke firmly grabbed his arm to make him stop and look at her. "We were exhausted. We haven't slept properly in days," she reminded him, raising her eyebrows pointedly, which only made him scoff.

"I'm a soldier with years of training. I was made to go through this and function. Not fall asleep when I should be constantly vigilant. We could have easily been detected. It's a freaking miracle nothing happened and we're still free."

She looked at him half amused. "You never cut yourself any slack, do you? I guess then I should apologize, too, because I fell asleep even before you did."

"You're not a soldier. I don't blame you. The last few weeks - months - have been such a strain for you."

She chuckled, incredulously. "Are you even listening to yourself? Just because you're a soldier doesn't mean you can endure pain and exhaustion endlessly, it doesn't mean you can go without sleep. You're a human being, just like me, Bellamy. You're easy on me, so be easy on yourself, too." She gazed at him, smiling at his resigned expression when he slumped his shoulders. "If anything," she added, playing her last, her best card, "it proves that you are in fact, just a human, and not a monster."

He briefly clenched his jaw, and she kissed him quickly, softening the blow of the reminder. "Now we better get ready; we don't want to test our luck too much."

He rolled his eyes, and she chuckled.

"Come on." She nudged him. "Hopefully my mom and the others will be here soon and then we can finally go and find that contact of yours."

Finally, she saw the traces of a smile begin to play around the corners of his mouth as he nodded.

He had been right, of course, she knew that, too. They had been lucky that no one had found them. But the last weeks hadn't been easy and she was ready to let things go for just another blissful moment.

* * *

…

Lincoln didn't like the city, Octavia could tell as much when she saw how uncomfortably he walked among the rows of houses, and she had to smile. She placed a gentle hand on his shoulder and he looked at her, frowning.

"What?"

"It's almost over, okay?" She grinned.

"I don't understand." His frown merely deepened, showing his utter confusion, and she kissed his cheek briefly before continuing.

"We'll leave the streets soon enough and head for the sewers. It's safer down there. Less people." She gave him a knowing look and he squinted at her, finally understanding.

He had fallen from grace when he had insisted on not killing her, a towner, a Silveren. But he was still a forester. Grown up among the trees, a part of nature, he had never spent much time inside the walls of a building. Everyone was an enemy to the forest people: the Golden, the Silveren, even the peaceful inhabitants of the Neutral Zone, unless they adhered to the agreement of staying far away from the forest.

But Lincoln had fallen in love with Octavia, just as she had fallen in love with him. Tired and drained from having been forced to fight in a war from a young age on, Octavia hadn't known how peaceful and calm the world could be until she had ended up separated from her scouting troop in the middle of the woods. She would have starved if he hadn't found her and brought her back to the settlement.

They had been inseparable ever since. She couldn't even say what her fascination with him and his people was, but she had started longing for a life with him in the forest. She had persuaded the settlers to let their group of Silveren deserters stay, she had persuaded them to let her and Lincoln set up a tent right outside, and she had even begun to get Indra of the forest people to trust her. Yet the foresters still wouldn't allow Lincoln back, and they wouldn't let her in.

She sniffed, forcing herself to concentrate on the more imminent problems. They had to get to Bellamy and Clarke. The plan was for them all to then meet up with the man Bellamy had been sent to kill by their mother. Aurora had gotten wind of the man's offer and had seen it as the most dangerous threat to the Silveren territories, or probably rather to her "reign" and she had given the kill order.

Octavia wrinkled her nose in disgust. She hated to be related to that woman, but she couldn't shake it off. Unless she helped Bellamy do the exact opposite of what their mother had told him to.

There was hope for them all, and if she helped end the war, and make the world a safer place, maybe the rest of the foresters would finally see her as worthy and would let her and Lincoln live with them in peace, hidden away from a world and a heritage that had never truly been hers.

"Almost there," Raven suddenly announced, and she could see Finn put up a hand to stop them.

"What?" she asked, coming up beside him, trying to see what he seemed to have spotted.

"Soldiers." He looked at her, then pointed off across the street. "There's a manhole right there, see? You go down there and I'll get Clarke and Bellamy," he told them, but Octavia shook her head.

"I'm not letting my brother alone."

He rolled his eyes at her, and she glared at him angrily, challengingly.

"It'll be easier to go undetected if I head over there alone, okay?" he said.

"I'll do it."

"You're not an Eternal."

"So?"

Raven looked at her with a sympathy that Finn couldn't seem to muster under the circumstances and his girlfriend nodded to him to back off a little, which he reluctantly did.

"He's right, Octavia. If the soldiers spot him or Bellamy and Clarke, Finn will have the best chance at fighting them off."

"Just because he's an Eternal doesn't mean anything. It takes more than that to be a ruthless and successful warrior." Octavia wasn't going to back down easily, but then Abby came over, stepping between the two younger women.

"This is not the time," she sternly told them. "Finn, you go and get Clarke and Bellamy. Octavia, we need you to help us in case the soldiers find us first. Hopefully neither of us will have to prove how well and 'ruthless,'" she repeated Octavia's word, "we can fight any time soon. Now, let's go."

Grudgingly, Octavia backed down and nodded briefly at the doc, but only because she respected the older woman and her judgment. Lincoln glanced at her briefly and they quietly communicated before rushing over to the manhole, swiftly descending into the sewers before anyone had spotted them, while Finn raced toward the nearby shed.

* * *

…

When the door to their hiding place was suddenly pushed open, Clarke hit an unsuspecting Finn over the head with the end of a large rake.

"Shit," it escaped him as he cradled his forehead and temple in his free hand, the other one hidden underneath his coat, but showing the light gleam of the weapon.

"Oh gosh, I'm sorry." She grimaced on his behalf but he waved her off when she wanted to take a look.

"I'm fine. Let's just get you out of here. There's a troop of soldiers coming your way, so we gotta move fast."

Clarke nodded, all business. There wasn't much for them to pack up, so they were quick. Bellamy moved to put on his weapon, but Finn shook his head.

"I got mine. It's better we don't draw too much attention by both running around all cloaked." He made a face, and Bellamy understood, nodding in reluctant agreement. Finn was probably right, so he carefully put the weapon away and slung it across his back.

"Where are the others?" Clarke wanted to know, busily shoving any trace of their stay in the shed back into her backpack.

"Waiting for us in the sewers. It's not far."

She exchanged a glance with Finn, feeling uncomfortable. She wasn't exactly excited about the prospect of having to go down there, but admittedly, it would be much safer than traveling the streets.

When they were finally all done, Bellamy cautiously poked his head outside the door, and when he didn't spot much traffic, he signaled to the other two and they warily snuck out into the half sleeping city.

He gave Clarke a look, his expression serious, and she nodded reassuringly, taking his hand in hers before they made their way into the open street, quickly pulling back as a group of soldiers almost ran into them. One of them bumped Bellamy's side hard, and he flinched as his weapon arm made contact. Clarke froze for a second as the soldier turned around to face them.

"Sorry, sir," Bellamy said, bowing his head, and much to Clarke's relief, the soldier merely nodded, then continued walking away with his comrades.

 _That was a close call._ She felt her legs shaking ever so slightly and she pressed her lips together to concentrate back on what they were here to do. She inhaled deeply, then they both followed Finn across the street until they spotted the manhole to the side of a smaller pathway.

...

The rest of their little group was already waiting for them and after Abby and Octavia had briefly hugged them, Lincoln broke his silence, clearing his throat.

"What next, Eternal?" he asked Bellamy, gauging him with his open stare, and Bellamy felt slightly uneasy around the other man. He clenched his jaw, briefly looking over to his sister for something kind of guidance. If she really trusted Lincoln, he was willing to do the same, but it wasn't easy.

O nodded at him, smiling.

"Follow me," he then rasped, and led the way, checking in his mind which direction they needed to head in.

...

"We gonna find that man now?" Raven eventually asked as they were on their way, raising her chin, ready for a new task. "Did that mysterious guy give you a location at all?" She was half joking, because it couldn't be that easy. But then Bellamy actually nodded, and they all just stared at him for a moment.

 _"_ Are you serious?" Raven scoffed.

"An actual address?" Clarke asked at the same time, giving him a surprised look, shocked at how easy that sounded. She had feared they might have to scour the city for a person neither of them had seen before.

"A bar."

Clarke's face fell. A bar meant people, loud noises, lights. It meant that their risk of detection would be highly elevated.

"How do we know it's him? How do we know he'll still go there? I mean, it's been months since you were supposed to meet him, right?"

"There's no guarantee, obviously. But according to him it's his favorite spot to hang out. He said to come in the mornings, when the usual guests are fast asleep and everyone else is busy working."

Clarke scoffed, exchanging a glance with Raven, who looked equally incredulous. "Doesn't _he_ work?"

Bellamy shrugged and made a face. He didn't have all the answers, either.

"He called himself a philanthropist. - Honestly, I'm thinking he's some rich guy that doesn't have to work for a living, but something or other makes him want to do what he offered to do."

"I bet he wants something in return," Clarke mused.

"I'm sure of that."

Bellamy held out an arm suddenly, stopping their little group in its tracks.

"What is it?" Clarke asked, her breath hitching with anticipation.

"If I got it right, we need to climb up here."

"Are we all going together?" Finn asked, and Raven shot him a glance.

"I don't know about you, but I'm not gonna stay behind, and definitely not down here."

Bellamy grumbled out an annoyed, "Fine. But I'll go first, and I'll be the one initiating any contact. You stay in the back. All of you. O," he addressed his sister last, knowing her too well. "I mean it."

She shot him a glare before averting her gaze, huffing out her annoyance, but at least she didn't object.

...

After a quick climb up, Clarke breathed in the fresh air with sincere relief.

 _Didn't think I'd ever be so glad to smell the city,_ she told Bellamy and he smirked at her.

 _Technically the stuff down there is also 'city smells'..._

She rolled her eyes at him, reciprocating his smirk when he suddenly jerked his head in the direction of an old ramshackle building with large letters above it, a flickering red sign denominating it as the Sky Bar, and Clarke scrunched up her face at the prospect of having to enter that establishment.

 _Really?_ She looked at him with a sour expression and he had to smile at her again.

 _Really. - You can wait outside if you prefer, but I'd rather have you with me…_

* * *

…

Marcus Kane was sitting in his usual spot, a stool toward the back of the bar counter, drinking a glass of a dark red wine, swigging the liquid around absently, lost in thought. There had been a mysterious attack last night, he had seen traces of it in the early hours of morning, and he had decided that he wouldn't be able to sleep under the circumstances. Something was going on in the city and it wasn't good. So he had made up his mind and decided to go to the bar even earlier than usual instead of going home, and here he now sat to let the incident sink in.

There hadn't been an attack like that in years. Was it coincidence that it had happened the same year he had tried to make contact with the enemy side? Could it, perhaps, have anything to do with the fact that his contact hadn't shown up in the expected time window? That possibility was too glaringly obvious.

He took a sip of his wine, grimacing as the tannins coated his teeth uncomfortably, and he grabbed a handful of peanuts to wash down the taste.

"Heard about what went down last night?" Sinclair, the bar owner, asked him, sitting down next to him now that he was the only guest. The man was in his late forties, though life had aged him beyond his years, his hair streaked with peppery gray. He wasn't conventionally good looking or anything, yet the patrons all liked him, because he exerted a certain cozy safe air. He was also smart, good company, and honestly, Kane preferred that over any empty flirts with the random women that sometimes found their ways into the establishment.

He shook his head. "Some dead soldiers, that's all I know," he muttered into his wine glass, then sniffed and downed the rest of it in one large gulp.

"Want a refill?"

"Nah, I'm good. It's probably time to head home, anyway."

"On the house?" Sinclair held the bottle between his thumb and index finger, the rest of the wine half visible through the green of the glass.

Kane sighed. "Fine," he said, "how could I say no to such an invitation." He smiled his most agreeable smile at the man, and Sinclair chuckled, rolling his eyes.

"You didn't actually want to go home." He grinned, then continued, a little more serious, while filling Marcus' glass back up. "So, the attack... From what I hear, it was an Eternal."

He had spoken casually, but Kane nearly spat out the wine he had just sloshed around in his mouth.

"What?"

"I mean, right? What are those guards doing if now there's freaking Eternals coming into our city? How difficult can it be to spot one of them coming through our gates?! Geez. I'm seriously pissed."

Sinclair gave Kane a look, frowning at the expression on the other man's face.

"You alright there, Kane?"

Thankfully, Marcus didn't have to come up with an explanation for right then, the door opened, and along with a ray of brightest daylight, in came a dark and serious looking man with a pretty girl on his arm, a few other serious faces following behind. But what caught his attention even more was the slightly older woman that entered behind them all, a brunette, her wild hair framing an almost chiseled looking face, and he sucked in an appreciative gasp.

"Well well, I think you have guests, Sinclair," he said, turning around in his stool completely. Then, suddenly, his features darkened as he spotted the pack on the first man's back, then a similar one on his younger companion that suspiciously stayed close to the door. The shape was nothing much, something pointy which could have been tent rods for all he knew, or regular military swords, yet something about it all was ringing his alarm bells, and he hopped off his chair, leaving his glass on the counter. "Or actually," he muttered, suspicious, "I think _I_ may be having guests. Excuse me." With that, he swaggered over to the strange group.

He cocked his head, almost dancing around the brunette, then the dark man and his girl, and Marcus saw the kid pull his girl closer to him in a way that gave away their affection for each other. Interesting.

"Welcome to Sinclair's little world, my favorite place to hang out. Usually we are quite alone at this time of day, however. So," he paused, scrutinizing the man warily, looking up and down, inching closer until he could feel the man's breath against his skin. Usually, when he did that, the other party was quickly intimidated and tried to gain back their personal space. Not so this specimen. Kane was instantly intrigued. It really must be him, then, he thought, a strange excitement taking hold of him. He raised his chin, just like his opponent had already done, then he asked, with a sideways glance at the gorgeous woman beside them, "What brings you all here, at this hour?"

"You're Marcus?"

Kane broke into a sincere burst of laughter at the man's stony delivery of his name.

"No one ever calls me that anymore, but yes. I am Marcus Kane. And you, I believe, must be Blake."

The girl beside him showed more of a reaction to the name than her companion did, who remained eerily calm.

"You Eternals really are stoic people, aren't you?" Kane whispered conspiratorially, winking at the brunette, who rolled her eyes at him, and he chuckled. Then he suddenly walked back over to where he had left his wine and he finished the glass with a few quick gulps before putting on his jacket, grabbing his hat and turning to Sinclair, who had minded his business putting chairs up on the tables and wiping down the counter.

"Thanks for the wine, Sinclair. Oh and don't get worried if I'm not back tomorrow at the usual time. I have visitors, and I might have to show them around town."

The gray haired man nodded at him with a knowing grin.

"Follow me, my friends," Kane said cheerily, leading the way as he buttoned his jacket. "This is the way to my humble abode."

This was going to be a good day after all.

* * *

…

The place didn't even begin to qualify as humble. Bellamy clenched his jaw as Kane walked them through the hallway of a very large building, marble floors so shiny that he could see his reflection. The walls were hung with expensive big frames, dark pictures and mirrors, and the ceilings so high that even the large chandeliers hanging from it were still so high up he wouldn't have been able to touch them had he jumped. He heard Clarke audibly gasp and saw her exchange a glance with her mother as they all walked into a wide living room with long fluffy couches and a beautiful rug on the floor, and he swallowed.

Octavia came up beside him, her arm brushing against his as she breathed, "I don't trust this guy one bit. Whoever lives like a king during war can't be on the good side."

"There are no good sides in war, O," he drily told her and she rolled her eyes at him.

But he had to admit she had a point. There were not many people left that lived in a world like Marcus Kane.

"Welcome to my home." The man gave a wave of his arm, then looked at them all mildly. "Sit please," he said, indicating the large couches before he walked over to a wooden cabinet, opening it to take a few glasses out, balancing them expertly as he got a bottle of amber liquid out, too, and placed them all on the mantle of his large fireplace. When he turned around again, he noticed that none of them had sat down, and he grimaced.

"Fine. Or you can stand." He smirked at the brunette, trying to get her to smile back, but she only gazed at him warily. Still, she did accept the proffered drink from him, and he thought that counted for something. At least she didn't think he was about to poison her.

He handed out the other drinks and when his motley group of guests - had he really spotted a forester among them? - still made no move to sit down, he sighed, then flopped down on the nearest couch, putting his booted feet casually on his glass coffee table.

"Alright," he said. "Now that you all know my name, it is only common courtesy to introduce yourselves in turn. He looked over to the dark haired kid, Bellamy, and waited for him to take charge, but it was the girl that moved closer first, sitting down opposite, leaning forward to stare at him intensely.

"I'm Clarke," she said. "This is my mother, Abby."

Oh, so the brunette had a name. Abby... It suited her. He would have never thought she and Clarke were related, however. That was interesting.

"Hello Clarke. Abby," he winked at them, his gaze staying on Abby a moment longer before Clarke counted off the names of his other guests.

Octavia, Raven, Lincoln, Finn.

Once she was done, he looked to Bellamy, swigging the liquid in his glass so haphazardly it almost spilled.

"You should have told me you'd get here with a whole entourage, and a few months late. I was beginning to think that plan of ours was dead before it even started."

Bellamy made a face at him. "Yeah, well. Things didn't go as planned."

"So I surmised."

...

 _I don't like him._ Clarke tried not to look at Bellamy so as not to tip Kane off to their bond, because she had a feeling he knew a thing or two about link relationships, and she didn't trust him at all.

Was this too smooth looking man really the answer to all their hopes and wishes? What exactly did he have to offer that would make such a huge difference?

 _He's definitely something…_

No one else had sat down until then, so Clarke took it upon herself to lead the conversation. It was good that they stayed vigilant, ready to run if they had to.

 _Is that alright with you? s_ he asked Bellamy and feeling his almost relief at her taking charge was answer enough. She smiled at him briefly, before focusing on Kane, her features guarded as she did.

"What exactly do you have to offer, Mr. Kane, and why? We have no reason to trust you."

He smirked at her, slowly leaning forward, too, until he was closer to her. She saw that despite her first impression that he was young, he did have some lines around the eyes, and his slicked dark hair showed just the first signs of aging here and there, barely perceptible.

"You are right, Clarke. You don't have any reason at all to trust me, other than my word. See, I'm a businessman, and war is not good for business - unless you're an arms dealer." He chuckled to himself, but soon stopped when she and the others stoically glared at him, waiting. Clarke noticed how the chuckle didn't leave his eyes, however, it lingered as a bright sheen that made him almost look nice.

"What kind of business?" Clarke wasn't going to let him skip the important details. How was she to know that he wasn't an arms dealer?

 _You think he could be?_ Bellamy sounded doubtful, but suspicious.

 _I honestly don't know. I just want to make sure we don't fall into a trap._

Kane sighed. "I'm in the metal trade." He raised a finger. "I know, I know, metal is also needed for weapons of all sorts. I'm not denying that I've made profit from the war, too. But. Lately, I've started losing more and more loads, no less than ten just within the last month alone. The military is intercepting my deliveries and takes what they need without paying."

"I thought you were a philanthropist," Clarke stated drily, quoting Bellamy's word from earlier, and Kane made a face at her, then looked at Bellamy.

"I see you told her."

Bellamy merely shrugged, and Kane clapped his hands against his thighs, then got up.

"I _am_ a philanthropist, Clarke. I like people, I don't want them to suffer. But yes, I also like money. Being a Kane has always come with certain privileges that have nothing to do with heritage and all with wealth, being able to buy any favors we want. The war is beginning to destroy those privileges, and to be quite honest, I don't appreciate it. It has to end. It's time for the old oligarchies to sink and vanish into oblivion. It's time for a new empire to rise, one without terror…"

"Those are all nice words, but they're empty," Abby piped up in the back, and Kane grinned at her before Clarke had his attention again.

"We still don't know what you are actually offering, other than a mysterious 'cure.'" Clarke air-quoted.

Suddenly, Kane began to beam.

"Let me fill those empty words a little then," he said, looking at her, then Abby. "Please follow me."

With that he put his glass down on the table and began to walk. Clarke exchanged a glance with Bellamy, raising her eyebrows.

"Okay," he quietly said. "Come on. We better get this over with."


	27. A cure?

...

Marcus Kane was many things, among them apparently also an engineer, a scientist, and a doctor. Abby marveled at that as she and Clarke watched the man conduct a series of "experiments" in a large bright room he had called his "study" and that looked more like an actual laboratory. He had just casually told them how he came across a way of neutralizing the special powers of the metal used for the Eternal weapons, and he was now showing them how it worked. Abby remembered so many of her lessons on Eternal technology that she was surprised to see that this man, a Golden that had never even seen an Eternal mining site up close, knew so much about those things.

He was wearing nothing but a pair of extra thick gloves and some dark rimmed glasses that made him look somewhat sophisticated and maybe even handsome, and Abby quickly berated herself for even thinking such a thought.

"As I'm sure you know," he was glancing over to Bellamy specifically, "the Eternal metal once used to be highly radioactive, and changed its whole molecular structure as a result - hence the almost liquid attributes at way lower temperatures than is to be expected for an element like this. What I found out is that if I can get the metal to liquidize even more for just a short moment, I can then begin to extract it. Like. So."

He poured a clear fluid over a piece of metal that looked like it had once been part of an Eternal Weapon and the surface suddenly began to shimmer even more, then strangely froth. He grabbed a rag off a shelf beside him and carefully wiped it across the metal.

Abby stifled a gasp. She had never seen something like that. Subconsciously, she touched the insides of her hands where her own silvery sheen was hidden under her leather gloves and watched closely as Kane turned to look at them all triumphantly, holding out the now shimmering rag in one hand, and a dulled piece of metal in the other.

Bellamy abruptly stepped closer, grabbing the other man by the shoulder.

"Where did you get that piece of metal?" he hissed, sounding angry, but Kane merely wagged an eyebrow at him.

"Someone had offered up an Eternal weapon on the black market. Needless to say, my interest was piqued and I put in an offer." He shrugged. "Once I brought the thing home, I tried tampering with it a bit. Wanted to get behind its secret." He grinned almost apologetically. "What can I say, stuff like that interests me. - But anyways."

"What is that liquid?" Clarke asked, not looking at him but rather at his little demonstration, and he winked at her.

"It's not magic, if that's what you're wondering. A chemical reaction, a catalyst. I..." He paused, squinting at them all as if he was wondering whether he should tell them what he knew. "I'm afraid I can't tell you more. It is my insurance, you might say." He earned himself a few more glares and raised his arms as if in surrender. "Suffice it to say I spilled a few things and the combination suddenly, well… had a bit of an explosive effect. Singed my hair a bit there, too." He chuckled but nobody else followed.

Abby shook her head at him disapprovingly and he grudgingly sobered.

"But," he continued in an obvious effort to appease his grumpy guests. "I have more of it and I can easily make larger amounts. And the best part..." He looked at Clarke, then Bellamy, before Abby felt his gaze hot on hers. "The best part is that I believe I can help heal Eternal wounds with it - and Eternal soldiers. That I can neutralize an entire mining site of Eternal metal if I can get into one."

Abby frowned at him, while Clarke shifted, grabbing the hand of an agitated looking Bellamy.

"No, you can't." Abby's words brokered no argument, and yet the man shook his head, still smiling. "I've worked with Eternals for a long time," Abby continued, not believing a word the man had said. It simply couldn't be possible. "There is no cure. We don't even know why exactly the metal behaves the way it does and what makes it keep skin from closing properly again after being cut—"

"And that, Abby, is where you are wrong." Marcus smiled softly at her.

"How do you explain something most people out there believe to be magic, then?" she challenged, and he grinned at her, beckoning for her to come closer.

"Please," he said calmly, "I want to show you something."

She exchanged a look with her daughter, strong as always, and she tried to smile at her briefly before heading over to Marcus's side.

"You too," he nodded to Clarke and the others, but only her daughter, Raven, and Bellamy followed his invitation. Octavia shot her a glance, a hand on her sword pommel, ready to use it. The poor girl always kept her guard up. Abby sighed, then finally leaned over to where Kane had put up what looked like a highly advanced microscope.

She shot a glance at Kane, surprised, and he smiled at her.

"Impressive, isn't it?"

"Where did you get that?"

He ignored her question and merely nodded toward the contraption. "Have a look."

She didn't need to be asked twice and quickly bent over the microscope, looking through its lense at…

"What the hell is that?!" it escaped her and Marcus chuckled. She quickly made room for the others to take a look, all of them as confused and shocked as she was, until Raven took a peek.

"Nanobots. Are you kidding me?!" she exclaimed, sudden excitement in her voice and Abby looked at her, then back at the slide in front of her.

"Very good." Kane gave Raven an appreciative pat on the shoulder. "I'm not surprised that not even you, Abby, knew about this, seeing as our technology nowadays is usually not good enough to detect anything on a microscopic level anymore. In fact, I'm pretty sure I am the only one in possession of an artifact like this from the Before. And it has come in very handy."

He patted the microscope so affectionately as if it was sentient, but Abby couldn't blame him. Tech from the Before was so rare to be found, especially in pristine condition, that she wouldn't have believed him a word, had she not known for a fact that the microscope was more advanced than anything currently in existence. It was beautiful.

"Nanobots?" Bellamy gave them all a questioning look and Raven was quick to reply, the excitement making her cheeks flush.

"Nanorobotics were gradually advancing into something big before the Big Ones destroyed everything. They're microscopically small robots that were for example intended to help heal diseases and wounds on a molecular level."

Bellamy frowned, and Kane nodded. "Exactly."

"Then how did these survive? And why in metal? You make it sound like they were supposed to be used inside humans."

"Well." Kane ran a hand through his already ruffled looking hair and sat back down, folding his hands in front of him. "That's where things become unclear. But I have a theory. They were distributed by some of the Big Ones."

"The bombs?" Raven frowned at him, before an excited smile appeared on her face. "Oh my gosh, that makes sense!"

"How…" Bellamy stared at her blankly, and Clarke inched closer to him, but it was working in her mind. _You know what that means, right?_ she said to him, and he did. The man had not been lying. There was a real chance for Bellamy and others to be cured. It also meant that there were possibly tiny little robots running through his veins. He didn't really know what to think about that.

"Well. We don't really know what exactly happened during the Last War, why people were really fighting each other, but it isn't hard to believe that after biological and chemical warfare, they decided to use tech like that to give them an advantage, maybe going as far as basically infiltrating the enemy directly: infiltrating their bodies." Raven looked equally excited and horrified. "Everything we know about be Eternal metal," she continued, "it's probably all because of the nanobots."

Abby had a sudden feeling of what she could only describe as awe. The people of the Before had unleashed those nanobots, those microscopically small machines that used to be intended to help people, and they had turned into something so dangerous, so vile. She rubbed her palms absently, like she often did when she was deep in thought, when it dawned on her that the bots might have been the underlying cause of much more than just what the Silveren had unknowingly turned them into.

She licked her lips, looking straight at Kane when she carefully peeled off her gloves, watching him for a reaction as the matte sheen on her hands became visible.

"I'm thinking the nanobots could be the reason for more than just the never healing wounds," she said, her voice threatening to give out. Out of the corner of her eye she saw her daughter staring at her, understanding dawning in her features. Abby tried to smile at her. Maybe there was hope yet for all of them. "I think they may have caused the bonds to develop, too, and they are the key to deactivating them."

"Deactivate?" Clarke's expression had turned quizzical. "I thought the bonds were due to some mutative leap."

But Abby didn't have to explain anything, because Raven eagerly stepped to the task. She was still examining the nanobots under the microscope, having waved over a reluctant Finn to come take a look, too, and the poor kid looked like he was ready to bail out of there.

"You're right, doc," she said excitedly. "This could be the answer to everything. The bots seem to work in two different ways, as corroborated by your own case. One, they keep wounds from healing and probably work to attach the metal to the arms of our Eternals. When someone gets injured, the bots probably replicate and travel over to the victim. Two."

She made a pause, staring hard at Abby, then at Bellamy and Clarke. "They're already in us, somehow, and have changed our brain structure, affected the way we use it. I'm thinking… I'm thinking there could be two different types of nanorobots at work here, for simplicity we could refer to them as the Golden and Silveren bots. I'm wondering whether one of them was maybe meant as a counterattack of some form. I mean, look at Abby: she used to have the link and then she lost it after extensively working with Silveren tech, with Silveren bots. - Ugh, I wish we could ask one of the people from the Before. If they hadn't so thoroughly destroyed everything, we could get some real answers!"

"Hold on." Bellamy held out a hand to stop his friend from blurting out even more info. No one could follow Raven when she got on one of her rants. She was almost hyper, barely able to stay quiet, but when she saw all eyes staring at her, she finally calmed down a little.

"Sorry," she muttered, grinning awkwardly. "This is just really fascinating."

"That's one word for it," Bellamy drily stated, exchanging a quick glance with Clarke.

Meanwhile, Marcus had walked over to Abby, grabbing her arms by the wrists, examining her palms. She had to fight the urge to flinch away, but when he looked up again, his gaze catching hers, he was smiling.

"Beautiful hands," he muttered, "You'll have to explain some day how a Golden got access to Eternal metal."

"Likewise." She winked at him and he chuckled.

"Fair enough."

"So, What are we gonna do? Destroy the source of Eternal metal first? And then what?" Bellamy wanted answers, and so did Clarke. She was completely mesmerized by this new development and she wasn't sure what to think of the possibility to be "cured" from the link. Would she even want that anymore?

It had changed everything, her whole life. Bellamy's, too. They had fought it so hard, they had slowly learned to live with it. They had fallen in love with each other, and now, if she was being honest, she had grown to cherish their link. She had been able to offer him help when the pain got too strong, and using the link for conversation had become more natural.

But she knew that their connection was special in more ways than one, and the reason was probably Bellamy's Silveren heritage, strengthened by his being an Eternal. The nanobots had probably run amok in him, fighting each other, reforming his brain so that he was still able to be part of a link, but not completely, hence why only Clarke ever seemed to override his barriers but not vice versa. Her link ability was just that much purer, and thus stronger. The thought that she could have ended up in a different kind of bond made her uneasy. Then again, the potential for a cure for the bonds was maybe not the right thing for her anymore, for them, but there were hundreds of Bonded out there that might think otherwise. Abby could try and turn her accidental cure into a real one, they could—

 _Clarke_. Bellamy's voice in her head jolted her out of her musings.

 _Sorry_ , she said, _my mind is going a mile a minute, I think I just need some time to digest this all._

 _I know. Me too…_

Out loud, he addressed the room at large, ending on Kane.

"Clarke asked you a question. What exactly is your plan, and how do I factor in?"

"That's easy enough to answer. You're right. I want to destroy the source of the Eternal metal, I'm sure you can get the plans for the mining sites through your connection to the Captain, right?" He winked at Bellamy. Of course Kane knew whose son he was… Bellamy made a face.

"Done. Then what?"

"And then… we'll test this on an actual person, on an Eternal."

"On me," Bellamy concluded and the other man nodded.

"Yes."

"No." Clarke glared at Kane, taking a step toward him. "We're not just gonna trust you and sacrifice Bellamy for the greater good."

Kane mildly shook his head. "You said it yourself, it's for the greater good. And I wouldn't suggest it if I wasn't pretty certain that it will work."

"Pretty certain? No." She was adamant. Angry, she looked to the others for backup, but Bellamy put a hand on her arm.

"He's right. I'm the perfect candidate. If I wasn't willing to try it out myself, how could I ask anyone else to do it?"

Clarke opened her mouth to say something, but nothing would come out. She glanced over to where Octavia was standing by Lincoln's side, both having stayed noticeably withdrawn throughout the whole experiment and conversation. But even the younger Blake merely shrugged her shoulders and said, "Bellamy's right. Kane is right. We may not like it, but what other way is there?"

Clarke closed her eyes. They were all right, of course. There was no other way, short of kidnapping a more evil Eternal like the one who haunted her nightmares and subject that one to the potential cure treatment.

 _It would take too long, princess. We need to get this underway now. It's alright. I'll be fine. We'll be fine…_

 _I know. Better us than someone else._ She looked at Finn, then Raven through her lashes, not wanting to tip them off on her conversation with Bellamy. _Let's just hope it works._

"Alright!" Marcus sounded more chipper than anyone else. He clapped his hands, then moved to clean up his supplies. "It's settled then. Live experiment to start tomorrow, I suggest. First, let's all try and get a good dose of sleep."

* * *

...

Marcus offered them a place to stay. He had business with them after all, and he didn't want them or him to get caught.

It was finally going to happen. He would get to see whether his treatment worked. That he was excited about the prospect was an understatement. He was also intrigued by Dr. Abby. Maybe she could work together with him on that cure for the Golden predicament while the kids went out to save the world with his little invention.

They would have to wait a day or two, or three, of course, until the rumors in the city had died down a bit, until everyone surely thought the Eternal and the Golden traitor had somehow already escaped town, then they could sneak out and into the Outskirts together, an adventure waiting for them all.

Marcus Kane was definitely ready for it.

* * *

...

"Are you okay?"

Bellamy had been staring out the big window of the guest room Kane had allotted them for the better half of an hour, and Clarke finally had enough of the silence. She slowly moved over to where he stood, and wrapped her arms around him from behind, leaning her head against his back, feeling his warmth. He felt like home.

Upon hearing her voice, he had slightly turned toward her, eyes shuttered and dark, but with a slight curl of his lips that promised a smile.

"I'm sorry. I guess it was all just a little much," he muttered, and she mumbled in agreement.

"Will you show him where to find the Eternal metal, then? Or what are you gonna do about his proposal? I still believe we shouldn't trust him…"

Bellamy made a face. "Of course not. He will have to demonstrate his skill set first, and then I'll go visit the closest site with him. If that works out, he'll get the rest."

Clarke frowned at him, finally stepping away and nestling to take off her clothes before she hopped into the gloriously luxurious bed, making herself comfortable under the soft blanket.

"That site," she began, having read it in his mind, but still needing him to confirm it, "it's the one your mom oversees personally?"

He nodded defeatedly, then moved over to climb in bed with her, where he casually leaned against the cushioned headboard. She couldn't help but stare at his bare chest, his bare arms, realizing that she hadn't really seen much of him in decent lighting for a very long time. She just wanted to...

She shook her head to clear her thoughts, to focus.

He lifted his arm a little to get closer to her and she caught a glimpse of the dull sheen of the bandage. It was still mesmerizing to her, and she had to fight the odd urge to touch it, run her fingers over it.

 _Focus, Clarke_ , she told herself and flushed when he frowned an amused frown at her.

"Are you talking to yourself, princess?"

"Maybe?" she allowed, quickly deflecting. "So you're gonna let him perform that magic trick on you?" Her worry had returned, and he nodded.

"What choice do I have? Like I said, if I'm not willing to let him try it out on me first, then I can't in good conscience have anyone else undergo his treatment."

Clarke's lips moved. She wanted to say something, but she couldn't. She didn't know what there was to say, because he was right. Still, she hated that. In the end, she quietly nodded and cuddled up with him, resting her head in the crook of his neck, absently stroking the side of his torso as a silence spread between them.

...

Soon, she realized that her fingers were fanning out, traveling across his body, mapping it, the scars, the muscles underneath. She felt the warmth of his naked skin, and it made her own skin tingle. She turned more toward him, her mouth finding his, for the softest kiss before they progressed.

They didn't speak a word, they barely even moved much. It was the softest lovemaking she had experienced in a very long time. Or had she ever? And she still wanted more, couldn't let go. Needed to be one with him.

...

"I love you," he breathed into her hair when they finally came to lay right next to each other, and she pulled him close yet again, whispering the same, "I love _you._ "

She didn't care that her hair was all over the place, her face flushed, her body sweaty. She looked into his eyes and saw her reflection in them and his content, affectionate expression, so honest, so bare, that she felt like the luckiest girl in the world.

Because she was; and nothing else mattered.

* * *

…

"Good morning, you two." Kane was munching on a piece of toast with butter and jam when Clarke and Bellamy walked down into the kitchen the next morning, half drunk from a sleep so good that they hadn't experienced it in months.

"Sit and eat with me. Have some tea, too," he said casually, grinning widely at them both, then pointing to a newspaper lying on the table in front of him.

Clarke exchanged a glance with Bellamy, then decided to sit down, because she was hungry, and toast sounded like a fantastic idea. His eyes flickered, then he almost grudgingly sat down next to her.

"Says here they're looking for a traitor that smuggled an Eternal into the city," Kane said, winking over at Clarke, making her grimace. "I think they mean you."

She glared at him, annoyed at his carefree attitude, but a light nudge under the table from Bellamy quickly made her refocus her attention to the food and the tea, and she calmed down again.

"Bellamy," Marcus then started in a more somber tone, and they both got wary again. "Once you've had something to eat, I'll take a look at that scar of yours and then… we shall see how it goes from there."

Clarke's anticipation was getting the better of her. Suddenly, the toasted bread tasted stale in her mouth and she couldn't wait to get up and see how Kane attempted to rid Bellamy of his horrible legacy.

* * *

...

When they were finally done eating, and the others had joined them, Kane took them over to his study again, where he carefully took out the large suitcase with the medical supplies for his procedure, and beckoned Bellamy to sit down on a chair opposite him.

"You'll have to take off the bandage, of course," he was saying now, and Clarke, who stood by his side, shot a quick glance in his direction, communicating to Bellamy, _I'll_ _take on some of the pain._

 _Clarke…_

 _I mean it. And I'll hold onto the bandage for you. Don't want him to get his hands on it._

He half smiled at her for a second before he began to unravel his bandage expertly and quickly and his expression changed to a stoic mask, hiding the pain as best as he could. He handed Clarke the bandage, staring at Kane.

The other man nodded, taking out his pair of glasses, then he scooted over on his swivel chair, shooting a glance at Abby as he did.

"Why don't you assist me, Doctor?" he suggested, and Clarke couldn't help but frown at his obvious interest in her mom. Now was not the time to worry about that, however. When Abby had stepped closer, Kane carefully inspected the scar, even going so far as to touch it, then poke it with what looked like a scalpel and Clarke was ready to throw herself at him to make him stop when she felt Bellamy's pain wash across the barrier. Before she could protest, however, he quickly shook his head at her, the pain evident in his face.

 _Let him finish it..._

Clarke was not happy about it, but she gave the smallest of nods. _Fine_. _But if he doesn't get it over with quickly, I_ will _step in,_ she told him, and he smiled a pained smile at her. Then she concentrated hard to take on some of the pain, making it a little more bearable for him. After a couple of minutes, Kane suddenly took off his glasses and tossed them on a desk behind him, looking frustrated.

"You can put the bandage back on," he said, and a puzzled Clarke quickly gave it back to Bellamy, helping him wrap it around his arm. She squinted at Kane while doing so, similar frustration now evident in her features. Somehow, she had thought the whole process would look a little more grandiose, impressive, but he had done nothing, really. He hadn't even poured his liquid.

"What was that?" she asked, because Bellamy was still too busy fighting down the pain.

Marcus's lips moved as he seemed to think about his answer. Something wasn't right, she realized, something was not working according to plan. But what?

"You said you lost your weapon." It was a statement, but Clarke could hear the question behind the words.

"Yes," she answered warily for Bellamy, not sure what he was trying to get at.

Kane squeezed his eyes shut for a moment, then rubbed a hand over them, suddenly standing up with a loud clang as he sent his chair flying against the desk in anger.

"You used an Old One instead?!"

Bellamy was finally back in the conversation, standing up from his chair, too, glaring at the other man defensively. "It wasn't exactly my choice," he muttered, his voice very quiet, and Kane's' eyes darkened at hearing him, but then he nodded, as if he suddenly understood something.

"They made you."

"Kinda had a bit of a situation there…" Bellamy wasn't looking at him or Clarke, but at Abby, whose mouth turned into a thin line.

"It was our only choice," she said, meeting his gaze head-on.

Bellamy nodded at her, no longer angry about it if not exactly happy, either. He was holding his arm awkwardly, and Clarke stepped closer to make him focus on something else. Her touch. He turned to face her, gratefulness in his features, and sadness.

"Yeah, I could see that." Marcus nodded absently, rubbing a temple with the palm of his hand. "Had a bit of a spreading problem there, didn't you? Been too long without a weapon?"

Bellamy nodded briefly. "It got taken from me."

Kane sighed, then looked back at Bellamy. He walked over to him, so close that Bellamy took a cautious step back when the older man put his hands on his shoulders, looking him straight in the eyes. Bellamy was bristling under the unexpected touch but calmed down quickly when he saw the sincereness in Kane's face.

"Unfortunately this affects your chances at healing, at making a full recovery." He pressed his lips together, looking genuinely unhappy.

"You said-," Clarke began, but he didn't let her finish.

"I know what I said. This, however, is a problem. Someone who bore an Old One can't easily be cured."

"What?! He only wore it for a few days. Why would that make a difference?"

Marcus shook his head at her, then turned his attention to Bellamy. "If you still want a demonstration, we'll need another Eternal, I'm afraid. I'm sorry, my friend. But the damage of the Old Ones… is on a whole other level, nothing I can heal quickly enough."

"Then we wait," Clarke hissed, agitated and a little angry. "How difficult are we talking about? How long?" She didn't even know why she was suddenly so upset about it. Just hours ago she had argued that he shouldn't do it, and now she got her wish. But then she had felt his hope at the prospect of getting rid of that constant pain and she had begun to see it with his eyes, seen it as a chance. The procedure had promised a life without pain, and now that promise had been postponed.

Kane cocked his head. "Weeks," was his short answer, but when he saw Clarke's mouth work, saw her go for what might possibly end in a lecture, he wearily explained, "See, the Old Ones leave scars way deeper than what we are dealing with nowadays. They go so deep as to affect the bone underneath. I'd have to work in layers. And if we don't want him to go into shock from the invasiveness, we'd have to allow for ample healing time in between. I'm not saying it isn't possible, but if you really want to postpone the whole plan until he is healed, then I fear we might run the risk of being detected before we've even moved out of here. I can perform the first round of treatments now, if you want..."

Bellamy shook his head, and while Clarke was shocked and terribly sad for him, she was surprised how well he took the news until she realized that he had never quite believed he would actually get to live without the scar, without the pain.

 _I'm so sorry_ , she told him, her hand finding his, and he smiled at her sadly.

 _I can live with it. The new bandage is much more effective, and if anything, I've become accustomed to the sensation of pain through the last decade, so…_

He trailed off, focusing back on Kane. "That's alright," he quietly said. "I may have another candidate to test your treatment on, but you'll have to come with us. With no guarantee you can come back, because I'm not willing to wait around here for much longer. So you'd have to bring whatever you need to produce more of your strange liquid 'cure.'"

Clarke noticed Finn shoot a somewhat wary and tense glance at Bellamy, but he shook his head ever so slightly, reassuring the younger one that he was not going to disclose his status as an Eternal. Clarke wondered whether the kid would be willing to be their guinea pig, like Bellamy had been.

His eyes flickered as he was facing Kane, and the man seemed to think the questionable offer through for a few moments. Then he broke into a grin.

"I'm on board," he said, shooting a glance at Abby and smiling, making Clarke's mom roll her eyes. "Like I said," he continued, undeterred, "we'll start with one Eternal, and take the rest from there." He patted Bellamy on the shoulder, then smiled at Clarke. "Let me make some arrangements. I can tell my people to get us out of the city unnoticed. Now excuse me, I have some personal business to attend, travel arrangements, et cetera…"

...

Once he had left the study, the others turned to Bellamy with a frown, and it was his sister who first questioned him.

"What kind of plan exactly do you have?" she whispered, warily looking at him, and he grinned at her.

"Just get the hell out of this city while we still have two Eternals among us," he said, and Clarke's eyes widened.

 _Smart_ , she told him.

 _Maybe you are rubbing off on me, princess._ He winked and she rolled her eyes at him, grinning.

"I'd rather not test his treatment on anyone other than myself," he went on, shooting a glance at Finn and nodding, "so I'm hoping we can make the trek to the site and on our way there find another 'volunteer'..."

Octavia nodded, understanding. "Alright," she said, "let's get going then."


	28. You lose some, you win some

…

By the time dawn's colorful light began warming the cold air around them, they had already made it out of the city.

Thanks to Marcus's fantastic connections and his ridiculous wealth, they had had no trouble whatsoever to pass the guards in the fancy horse carriage he had provided. A cursory glance inside had been all the examination they had gotten. Clarke and Bellamy had hidden under a false floor, and when they were finally far enough away from the city, Kane thankfully stopped the carriage to allow them to come out and sit up front with the rest of them.

"Sorry," he said with a warm smile as he helped Clarke out of her hideout. "But it was safest that way. Couldn't risk anyone identifying you or your Eternal."

She raised her eyebrows at him. "I know." Quickly, she exchanged glances with the other few when she hoisted herself up onto one of the benches. Raven shook her head at her, indicating that Kane was still oblivious to the fact that he was riding with two rather than just one Eternal. Finn was sitting tensely next to his girlfriend, hiding the pack with his own weapon under the coat he was wearing, both hands equally obscured by his overly long sleeves. He gave Clarke a look and tried to smile, and she smiled right back to ease his obvious discomfort.

Then she sat down right next to Bellamy, both feeling sore and tired, and ready for a break, but of course that would have to wait until a much later time. They had to make way first, had to reach one of the settlements by nightfall so that their horses could rest, so that _they_ could rest, too.

"You think your mother will be there?" she asked Bellamy and Octavia, biting into a stale piece of bread her mom had handed her.

Bellamy glared at Clarke, rolling his eyes, and she grimaced, understanding.

"Aurora would never leave the source of all her power," Octavia spat in disgust, and Clarke could see that neither of the Blake siblings held their mother very dear to their hearts. She couldn't blame them, not after what she had learned about the woman so far.

"Will you guys be okay if it comes to facing her again?"

Bellamy's features darkened as he glanced at Clarke uncomfortably, and she briefly nudged his side for comfort. But Octavia, Octavia looked positively ready.

"Yeah, I am. I've waited for this day for a very long time," she said, exchanging a look with her brother, than smiling almost unnervingly brightly at Clarke, who nodded at her than shot a glance at Bellamy.

 _You sure you two will be okay?_

 _O... I'll have to look out for her. She doesn't even really know our mother._

 _What about you?_

He let his head drop a little, rubbing a hand over the back of his neck. Clarke could feel that he really wasn't okay.

 _But you will be,_ she assured him. _I'll be with you the entire time._

He looked up at her briefly, a small smile appearing on his face for just a moment. He didn't say anything, but she felt his gratitude, and neither of them needed any more words.

* * *

...

* * *

…

Octavia Blake was a free spirit, much to her brother's dismay. While their mother rose through the ranks on her quest for revenge, he was left to deal with his sister's constant escapes from the boundaries of their modest home.

He would find her chasing through the streets, out beyond the city limits. Sometimes, she would get as far as the woods, where she had many encounters with its less than favorable denizens: deformed outcasts, robbers hiding from the law, but also little birds and animals that had somehow gotten hurt and needed a little pampering. Octavia's favorite, however, were the handful of stray foresters she had seen flit through the trees, as mystical as elves in some of the old songs, but also very much real.

One day, Bellamy had been looking for her for a very long time already, when he finally spotted her sitting with one of them on a tree stump, oblivious to the fact that it was long past nightfall. He shook his head, clenching his jaw in anger, and stomped to her across the muddied ground. His feet were ice cold, his boots and pants coated with the mud, and he took a few labored breaths before calling out to her now.

"O." His voice was hoarse from yelling for her earlier and it ached his throat. Thankfully, she looked up immediately and he could see instant guilt cross her face.

"Hey Bellamy," she said shyly and slipped off the tree quickly, making her way toward him with a last wave at her companion. He frowned at the young man with his twigs in his bun and a long coat shrouding him which almost looked like it was part of the canopy. What was he doing so far out here, away from the Neutral Zone?

"Who's your friend?" He nodded to the man when Octavia had reached him, and she briefly turned around again, smiling at the stranger.

"None of your business."

He glared at her, annoyed, then grabbed her a little roughly by the arm.

"Ow, you're hurting me."

"None of my business?!" He ignored her complaints, but did loosen his grip a little as he guided her back home with him. "You are my business, O, have you forgotten that? It's my job to look out for you and keep you safe. How the hell am I supposed to do that if you keep sneaking away and meeting with random strangers?"

"Jasper is not a random stranger."

So he had a name, now, too. Glorious. Bellamy rolled his eyes. Chances were, Octavia would sneak out to meet him again, then. And again.

"Well, you can't come out here without telling me a word, and I don't care whether 'Jasper' is your friend or not, I don't want you to see him again."

She stared at him defiantly, suddenly looking a lot older than her 13 years.

"You can't tell me what to do and who to see! You're not my dad!"

She liked to use those words to get to him, because they always made him back down, but today something was different, and they made him bristle, made him angry rather than upset. He stopped in his tracks and glared at her for a moment, the quiet darkness around them feeling oppressive. Then he let go of her abruptly and stomped off.

"Fine, go back then. I'm done here."

Octavia was flustered, her fingers moving of their own accord as her mind tried to make sense of her brother's unusual behavior. This was almost an outburst for his standards.

"You can't just leave me in the middle of the forest," she said, forcing herself to catch up with him, although another voice inside of her tried to convince her to merely go back and see whether Jasper was still there. But he wouldn't be. The foresters had perfected the art of slipping away and vanishing without a sound.

"I can do whatever the hell I want," was Bellamy's gruff reply, and she rolled her eyes at him behind his back, not understanding why he was so moody all of a sudden.

"Come on, Bell. Slow down. I'm coming, okay? I get it, you're upset because I didn't come home like I said I would. But honestly, why do you care? Mom isn't there and wouldn't mind anyway, our dad is a big dark secret, and you… you have the academy now, and your friends and your Eternal buddies. You don't—"

"Are you serious?!" Bellamy had stopped again and turned to face her. His dark hair had fallen into his face and his mouth was an angry line when she looked at him, shrugging.

"You know they don't care about us, or whether I get lost in the woods. Mom doesn't even want to see me—"

" _I_ care." His answer was so short and simple that Octavia felt a sudden pang. There was such deep hurt half hidden behind his shuttered eyes, that she had to swallow. Before she had a chance to come up with anything to say, Bellamy continued.

"I care, O. You are my family, my only family, because you're right, we don't know anything about our dad other than that he must have been a huge asshole to turn away from us and turn mom into what she is: a revenge angel with no other agenda than to wipe the freaking enemy out."

"They're not _my_ enemy," Octavia couldn't help but quietly say, and her brother rolled his eyes at her.

"Yeah, right, because you're so much better than all of us combined, a friend of the people—"

"I'm not better, no, but at least I'm not an Eternal, either."

"Like I had a choice!"

She suddenly looked at him, confused, shocked, not understanding. "What do you mean? You went to the academy—"

"So I could provide for you!" He half yelled at her, more upset and somewhat broken. "I never wanted to become this!" He moved his arm unhappily to show her, staring at her all the while.

"Why did you? You could have earned enough money as a normal soldier, or even found a job outside the military."

He scoffed. "You really don't know mom at all." It was a statement. He grinned a humorless grin. "I can't blame you. I mean, she was never there for you. But listen, O. Aurora has her hand in everything. She decides who becomes a soldier and who doesn't. She decides whether you get turned into an Eternal or not. I didn't have a choice. It was all hers. You weren't there when they came to snatch me and turn me, were you? Because you were busy again doing what I told you not to do, finding answers about who our father is and why it's such a secret. You didn't see them come and drag me with them. So you don't get to judge me!"

And with that, he closed his eyes briefly, before continuing on his walk, not waiting to see whether she was following him. But she was. Her mind was working a mile a minute, white hot shock and embarrassed guilt making her fast enough to quickly catch up with him and she gently grabbed his arm.

"I'm sorry," she whispered when he didn't shake her off but also didn't stop. "You're right. I didn't know. I just… I don't know, I'm just angry that I have to spend my life hiding away because apparently I remind mom of something bad, and I'm angry that my parents don't care about me at all. But… Being on her radar is worse, I get it, okay?" She looked a little helpless, and he felt his anger dissipate a little. "I'm so sorry," she continued, grabbing his arm, looking up at him. "I have you, Bell. You're all I need, anyways. Mom can combust for all I care, and I hope it'll hurt as much as she hurt you. Don't be mad at me. Please. I can't lose you."

He looked at her then, features softening, and she couldn't help but fall into his arms, relieved. "I'm sorry," she muttered again, tears welling in her eyes.

"You'll never lose me, O. Never."

* * *

...

* * *

...

"Oh hell," Bellamy suddenly hissed, signaling for the others to look to their right, and they all exchanged a glance. Clarke's skin was crawling. She had followed Bellamy's gaze to see what he had seen: a large group of riders, their Golden uniforms easily discernible in the light of day.

"Halt!" a distant voice called out, and because they didn't have any feasible chance of escaping anymore, Kane dutifully reined in the horses, making them slow down, then stop, as the riders quickly approached.

 _We gotta try and hide under the floor again._ Clarke shot everyone a glance, mouthing for them to stay calm.

Bellamy shook his head, making an unhappy face. _Too late, they've already seen us._

Clarke hissed through her lips. How had they not seen them coming? Had Kane knowingly led them into a trap? They hadn't gotten very far away from Arkadia yet. If there was a Bonded among that group of soldiers, they would never be able to escape. Her heart jumped when she suddenly saw the first rider emerge right in front of the carriage, and she tried to shrink back behind Kane to remain invisible. Bellamy shot her a puzzled glance.

 _It's Wells..._

"What's going on, Sir?" Kane was asking, but the soldier didn't seem to want to give a reply. Instead, he made his horse get closer to the carriage, until he could lean in and see inside, making Marcus frown and protest, but to no avail.

"Clarke Griffin." There was disappointment in Wells's voice, and Clarke briefly wondered how that could even be. He didn't care about her anymore, or did he? Maybe he was just disappointed about the fact that a Golden was fleeing with an enemy soldier.

Bellamy stood up quickly, busying himself with his weapon, strapping it on in the shadows of the carriage to prepare for the worst, and he motioned for Finn to do the same, while Clarke and the others tried to shield them from view.

"You wait in here," he hissed to the younger Eternal. "Only if we can't help it." Then he looked at Clarke, who nodded at him.

 _Whatever is necessary,_ she told him, _They mustn't stop us._

 _Yeah... Hopefully I won't have to use this._

Clarke saw the weapon blazing on his arm as he then hopped off the carriage and in front of the group of soldiers.

"Holy shit," one of them gasped as they all had to work hard to keep their distraught horses in check, but their leader didn't budge.

"Wells," Bellamy said, voice level, and he raised his chin, standing up tall, staring at the other man on his horse. He knew that despite being on foot and not having a firearm, despite being at a considerable disadvantage, he was still a force to be reckoned with, something to be feared.

And as Clarke watched, she was startled to find that while her revulsion against the weapon was still strong, Bellamy's whole stance suddenly excited her in some dark, awful, twisted way. He exuded a cocky self confidence she had never really seen to that extreme extent before, only glimpsed, and she had to admit to herself that it almost kind of turned her on, a feeling that confused her and disturbed her even now, in their current tense situation.

"Bellamy." Wells's eyes flickered; he gave an involuntary shiver. "I take it you two won't come back with me peacefully?"

Of course Clarke wasn't just going to sit there and wait. When Kane noticed it, he tried holding her back, but she shrugged him and then her mom off before climbing off the carriage, coming to stand beside Bellamy, pointedly looking at Wells with the same amount of defiance.

"Wells," she said, "You'll have to kill us to bring us back, but I'm still holding out hope that you'll remember what you once believed in. That you'll remember who you were, who I was to you, and that you'll act accordingly."

He inclined his head, looking at her mildly, irrationally annoying her just by doing that.

"Ms. Griffin. I don't have to kill you to bring you back. Just severely wound you, and your dear Eternal will do as I say, or try and run, sacrificing you. In either case, you'll live as long as he plays along. If he doesn't, we will kill you first, then him."

Clarke sniffed, anger taking hold of her. "It's hard to mourn someone when they're seemingly still right there, looking you in the eyes," she told him, "but I guess now I know Wells really is gone."

He squinted at her. "If you're trying to push my buttons, make me feel sympathy for you, it's not worth the effort."

"I'm not trying to do anything. I'm simply saying goodbye..."

Her words provoked the smallest of reaction in Well, a flicker behind his eyes, when Kane abruptly stood up behind them, yawning theatrically.

"You people are tedious," he said, moving a hand up to cover his mouth, and one of the soldiers suddenly whirled around and shot, misinterpreting the situation completely. Kane ducked down quickly, clearly shocked, but fine, and Clarke could see her mother pulling him into the carriage more.

"Cease!" Wells yelled, and motioned for two others to grab their fellow soldier, and to Clarke's shock she saw that one of them was no other than John Murphy. She shot a glance at Bellamy and could feel rather than see his disgruntled grimace.

 _I thought you took care of Emori,_ she said, unable to stop accusation from creeping into her tone.

 _I did. Just didn't think I'd have to kill her._

 _Let's hope you were right._

She swallowed, quickly glancing over to the carriage, making sure their friends, her mom, were okay, and she saw Finn ready to hurl himself out of there and join them, but she shook her head. There was still hope for a peaceful solution. Or maybe she was just blinded by the fact that this was Wells.

 _He doesn't deserve your trust, Clarke._

 _I know. I just..._

But she didn't get to finish her thought, because right then, one of the Golden spotted a flicker of light coming from the carriage and yelled out, "There's another one! They came with freaking two Eternals! Shoot! Shoot!"

Then all hell broke loose.

Clarke tried to raise her hands as if in surrender, imploring Wells with her eyes.

"Stop this," she begged, but he merely gave a half shake of his head, coldly looking at her.

"You are with _two_ of them now? Through all of this I still thought you were just someone trapped in an impossible situation, but—"

"Please, Wells," she interrupted him. "We did not come to attack anyone. We were just on our way—"

But he wasn't listening anymore, had already turned away from her to give new orders to his troops. "Shoot, go for their arms! Their arms! We want them alive!"

There was no other way...

Octavia, Lincoln, and Raven were all jumping down onto the harsh ground, following Finn, who had gone first and had already joined Bellamy, their weapons now raised and openly blazing.

"Clarke! Over here!" Bellamy yelled at her, and she raced over before Wells or anyone could catch her, seeing her mom stick close to Marcus Kane, who was now seemingly trying to keep her from joining the ensuing battle. She had barely made it close to Bellamy's side, before he had to whirl around and shield them from an attack, all of them seemingly caught in a deathly dance of evading and attacking, dodging and lashing. Clarke whirled around herself, the only one without a proper weapon until Octavia pushed a dagger into her grip, and no sooner had she done so, did Clarke need it to defend herself and plunge it into a startled looking young man's chest.

"I'm sorry," she breathed, paralysis threatening to take a hold of her, when she heard a shot again, and a terrible yell, and in panic, she whirled around to see whether Bellamy had been hit. For a moment she could barely see clear. There was a weird feeling washing over her, almost like a surge of adrenaline, endorphins, a strange hunger for more and she realized it must have been the weapon's influence. There was no pain, though, not a bit, and that was when she saw him fight.

His weapon was blazing blindingly as it swung through the air dangerously swiftly and precise. Bellamy's lithe movements were so fast he almost seemed to blur before her eyes, but when he suddenly sank his sword into a soldier with terrible ease, he seemed to be suspended in mid-air for a moment, and a clarity came over Clarke that affected all her senses, almost making her wish it would never stop.

Clarke gasped, swallowing, but unable to look away. This, then, was what it felt like, fighting like an Eternal. Killing...

Wells was yelling something. Kane was ducking. Abby held a distraught Raven by the arms, keeping her from getting in the crossfire. Suddenly, Bellamy pushed Clarke to the ground and she lost sight of the others.

 _Stay down_ , he told her as more shots were fired.

When he got up again, his warmth leaving her, Clarke felt herself breathing too fast. Was it all going to end right there? Someone yelled again, another shot was fired, she heard a harsh noise, like metal scraping metal, and she saw Finn fall to his knees, then heavily get up again.

"Noooo!" Raven screamed just as Wells commended the shooter.

"Good shot, soldier! Now restrain him, quick, before he gets up again!"

She saw feet on the ground, men fighting, felt the cold ground against her cheek. She tried to push herself up again, catching a glimpse of Bellamy, already busily fighting again. When she was back on her feet, strangely unnoticed by the Golden soldiers, she quickly assessed the situation. This was a losing battle. Octavia was pinned down where she had tried to aid an already restrained Lincoln, who hadn't had a chance against a handful of attackers, Bellamy was alone, his blazing blur coming to a stop as all firearms were now trained on him. And Raven... was sobbing, kneeling on the ground beside a heaving Finn, who was lying in a growing puddle of his own silvery blood.

...

Clarke's brain started working again. Bellamy was okay, but Finn was shot, and they needed to get to him, to help him.

Hers and Bellamy's gazes briefly met as she crouched over to their friends. There was blood on his temple where a bullet had grazed him, but other than that he was unharmed, if surrounded. His weapon now dangling at his side, he simply waited.

 _It's over. I don't want them to hurt you. With the link..._

 _I know_ , she said, sadness encompassing her. _It's alright. I don't want them to shoot you. - We gotta help Finn..._

Everything halted for a long moment, and by the end of it, Clarke somehow found herself right in front of Wells, her arms wide as she tried to protectively stand right over Finn, who was breathing erratically and staring up at her as if she was very far away, Raven trying to staunch the silvery flow of blood coming from his arm.

Then Clarke heard someone yell, "Stop!" It was her own voice, she knew, but it felt like it came from somewhere very far away, from someone else.

"Wells, let us go, let him go. He's hurt. Don't let your soldiers make it worse."

"He deserves all the pain, for what he is."

Clarke shook her head, trying to ignore Raven's stifled sobs and Finn's breathing and her very own too loud heartbeat. She needed to focus. She wasn't going to give up, because she couldn't. They all depended on her. "Please." It came out as a breath. "We're trying to end this freaking war. Wells."

He was holding his gun, half hidden under his uniform jacket. Staring at it, she remembered the saying to not bring a knife to a gunfight, but since there were so few in existence, it had lost its meaning. Now though, now she finally understood. She dropped Octavia's dagger, and with a deep breath looked up.

Wells watched her coldly where he was standing right in front of her, suddenly nudging Finn's bleeding arm with the tip of his gun, making the kid suck in air.

"Wells! Stop!" she yelled, appalled, just as Raven screamed "No!" The other girl tried to lunge for Wells and Clarke could barely hold her back, imploring her with a gaze alone to let her deal with it. Raven's shoulders sagged, and she let herself flop back down on the ground next to her boyfriend, where she desperately continued to stop the bleeding.

Clarke had returned her complete focus on her former best friend, putting a hand on his gun, making him glare and snarl at her, but at least he didn't lash out again. His men, the ones that were still standing, Murphy one of them, stepped aside a little, giving them room. The Golden had the situation under control, after all. Clarke and her people had lost, enemy guns trained on them all, their two Eternals taken out in one way or another, yet Wells seemed angry despite his triumph.

"Your Eternals just killed a lot of our men," he hissed. "Are you honestly telling me you want me to spare them - and you - because you are on a mission to bring peace?" He scoffed.

"Yes." She shot a glance at Bellamy, who was shaking his head at her. For some reason, she couldn't communicate with him at all, their barriers were up, though she was sure she hadn't actively worked on that. She felt frozen in time, lost without him, until she broke herself free.

"Remember the girl who you told the war wouldn't last forever?" she asked with a sigh. "That all Eternals would one day be gone?"

Wells inclined his head, eyeing her warily. "Don't stall, Clarke. It's over. There's nothing for us to talk about anymore. You can keep your speech to yourself until we get to General Wallace. I'm sure he'll be all ears..."

Clarke made a face, but went on anyways. "You gave her hope, Wells Jaha, something to keep going. And now that hope has brought me here. It can still become true. If you let us go. If any of your former self, of the kind, cocky, sweet and caring man is still in you, let us go. What would you lose? Just a few prisoners you'd have to watch getting tortured. But what you - what _we_ can gain, is a world without this war. Peace. For your mind, too. That last little part of you that will always be yours." She paused, looking him square in the eyes. "Did you know that we stumbled upon something that could potentially sever mind-bonds? - There is hope for you, too, Wells."

But she couldn't get through to him, he only glared at her, no trace of his former self left, no compassion, no sympathy, not even his old pain at having to endure the link. It was hopeless.

"The bonds can't be severed," he muttered tonelessly, pulling his long coat around himself, and Clarke's shoulders slumped in defeat as she desperately tried to come up with one last way of reaching him.

"Murphy, tie this one to the horse, the other one—"

Clarke watched as his face suddenly froze, a mask of utter surprise appearing on it, and she turned around to see what he had spotted.

"Hello, Wells." Abby was looking at him with a resigned, a sad expression, her hands held away from her body so as not to seem like a threat. For a moment, Clarke was angry that she had come out of hiding, had given herself up, but then she realized what her mother was doing, that she was trying to do what her daughter hadn't succeeded in doing.

"You're dead." It was a statement, his confusion evident.

Abby's lips turned upward in an unhappy smile. "I should be, yes. But I'm not."

"But Jake—"

She nodded, the smile disappearing again quickly. "My husband is very much still dead. But our bond was severed before that happened, so here I am."

"No. That's impossible."

"Is it really? Wells, there's things out there that we know nothing about, but we believe that we found a way to explain some of them, to eliminate them. There's a... a 'cure' so to speak, for the Eternal Wounds, and for the Bonds. Even for the Eternals themselves. But if you don't let us go now, we can't prove it."

"I..."

"I am proof that there is hope for you, but if you don't let us go now, if you take us with you, do you think they'll allow us to work on it? To distribute it to others who might want it?"

They stared at each other for a long time, and Clarke closed her eyes, fearing Wells's reaction, but then, suddenly, Murphy stepped forward, laying a hand on his Major's outstretched arm, urging him to put down the gun.

"Let them go," he whispered, imploring Wells, exchanging a glance with Clarke, then Bellamy before returning his focus on Wells. "A cure - even just the hope of one - sounds pretty awesome to me, doesn't it to you? Come on..."

...

And eventually Wells nodded, letting his gun sink down. "Alright..."


	29. Forced test run

...

Clarke's breath left in a shudder, a tension falling away from her that she hadn't known had held her body in its grip. Her legs began shaking, her lips, too. She stood, like a wavering rod, trying to not sway too much as she watched Wells ride away. She couldn't move for a minute or two, maybe more, then she saw him turn around one last time to look at her, tapping against his heart with his hand, maybe a small smile on his face, she wasn't sure, because he was already getting too small against the wide horizon for her to see him properly.

Then he was gone. Clarke knew that she would probably never see him again, and this time for real. There was no coming back from where he was headed. Despite what she had said, despite what Abby had said, they all knew that a cure would come too late for him. Before they would ever get a chance to give it to him, he would have to deal with the General, with command, with Maya.

Because he had remembered. He had remembered more than he should have, and he had acted on it, and in doing so he had sacrificed his life.

...

* * *

...

* * *

...

Wells listened. To Clarke, to Abby, to Murphy, to Maya in his head. So many voices, and none of them his. There was an emptiness in him that neither of them could fill, but then...

Clarke's face was swimming in front of him, beautiful, honest, unchanged, and he remembered. She had been his friend; all he had ever wanted to do was protect her, save her, and now he would have one more chance. Because there really was a cure, somewhere, somehow. He didn't need to know more, didn't need confirmation; there was still hope, for Clarke, for others like them, if maybe not for him.

 _Wells_! Maya sounded shrill over the link. _You're not honestly considering letting them escape. Not again._

He could feel her distress, her disappointment in him, and her utter confusion about why the reprogramming didn't seem to have worked so well after all. But he ignored her. With an earnest face, he looked from the two Eternals to Clarke. He had seen her honest concern for both of them, and he still couldn't understand.

"Did you forget how they killed your dad?" It was a cruel question. Of course she hadn't forgotten. But he had to ask, to make sure. The reply he got was a devastating glare. "Then I don't understand why you are with them. Bellamy, I get: because you were bonded to him, you couldn't help it. But why this one, too?

He almost nudged the one on the ground again; it was too good to see them suffer. Eternals deserved to feel all the pain of those they had hurt, and more; and he knew he couldn't hurt Bellamy, because he didn't want to hurt Clarke. But then he saw her expression, now pleading and so very upset, and he froze. She actually cared about these people.

"They're not all monsters, Wells. The world isn't just good versus evil, the old you knew that." She stared at him, lips twitching briefly as she was looking for words, for a way into his heart. "These people are my friends. And just like us, they want the war to end. None of them chose to fight. They do it because they were forced to. Like you."

 _Wells_.

It was bizarre, before he felt something shift inside of him, before memory began to properly return - his love for this beautiful girl, his anger over the link, his regret and defeat - he first noticed the change because of Maya's reaction. Her voice inside of him had turned desperate, upset, as if she had known before him that he was lost once more. No, not lost: found. Clarke had managed to unearth something in him that everyone had thought was gone. But it wasn't. He was still there, and even if probably not for long, he could make it count. Because he believed in Clarke, if not in everything she believed in. But he believed in her as a person, a winner, someone destined to bring about good.

He listened to her, to Abby, to Murphy, one of his own men, an opportunist and a Bonded. If that man was willing to believe in the cause, then shouldn't he try, too?

So he clenched his teeth, trying to rein in a sudden storm of emotions, then he lowered his gun. Murphy shot him a glance, nodding quietly, strangely grateful, and Wells nodded right back. "Alright," he allowed, gaze trained on Clarke's flickering eyes, and he saw instant relief brighten them.

"Thank you," she breathed, but he shook his head.

"No, thank _you_ , Clarke. For reminding me of what I always wanted. Of who I am. I hope you'll find that peace out there." He swallowed, the words feeling foreign in his mouth, too heavy. "I can't help you any more, but Murphy and I will try to hold off reinforcements as long as we can. But you need to leave, now."

Clarke suddenly rushed forward, her arms coming around him, and he gasped slightly before allowing himself to reciprocate it. This was goodbye then, although they didn't say the word, just pulled away quickly again, exchanging a last look, a last smile. Then Wells half stumbled a few steps away, calling out to his remaining soldiers.

"Let's go. Nothing to do here anymore."

"But Sir," one of them started, and he glared at the woman, his brow furrowed, his gaze dark.

"Soldier. You got your orders. Retreat."

When the woman didn't budge, just stared at him uncertainly, he shooed her like a child, raising his weapon at his own people, Murphy mirroring his every move.

"Go go go!" Murphy said, then, turning around, he addressed Clarke. "I want in on that cure, Griffin. Your Eternal helped Emori before. Now we returned the favor. Just remember who helped you here today, alright? And come find me when you got that treatment figured out."

Clarke nodded.

Wells wanted to be as optimistic as that kid, but he already knew he wouldn't ever get to experience life without the bond, and for the first time in forever that thought didn't actually seem so bad...

* * *

...

* * *

...

When Bellamy felt rain pelt down on his skin seemingly out of nowhere, the world suddenly caught back up with him and he sprang into action.

After Finn had been shot, he had been held at gunpoint, unable to do anything in spite of his weapon, but then Clarke had worked her magic and now the enemy soldiers were all retreating. He took a deep breath before racing over to where she was already busy assisting her mother with taking care of Finn.

But when he got close enough, he quickly realized that something wasn't quite alright. Finn was trying to get up and get away, looking positively panicked, and it didn't take Bellamy long to make the connection. The kid didn't trust the doc, because she had once been responsible for doing what had been done to them. Raven, Abby and Clarke were trying their best to keep Finn from getting up, but the more they pressed, the more agitated the kid became, only exacerbating his injury. Until Bellamy stepped in.

"Let's just get him into the carriage," Octavia was just saying, urging them all to get going again. "We can't stay here and we can't deal with his tantrum right now."

"Tantrum?!" Clarke turned to glare at her, but Bellamy laid a calming hand on her shoulder.

 _Let me deal with her. You just take care of him. - And, Clarke. Maybe tell your mom to back off a little…_ He shot her a pointed glance and she finally understood.

…

Finn stared at Raven, then Clarke, wide eyed and panicked, and Abby calmly tried to make him let her take a look at his injured arm that he was now holding half upright, Eternal weapon still attached. Her mom held her arms away from her, trying to show him that she posed no threat, but for some reason the kid was still freaked out.

"Don't touch me," he hissed, and his poor girlfriend tried her best to make him see reason.

"Come on, Finn. Let the doc help you, please. You're bleeding pretty badly…"

"No, I'm… fine. Get her the hell away from me." His breath came out in labored bursts, and he struggled upward, his weapon threateningly looming up. But strangely, Clarke was not afraid. Her old emotions, tainted by fear from her horrible memories, suddenly didn't have a hold on her anymore. Because this was not a monster. Just like Bellamy, there was just a kid in front of her, turned into something against his will, and the real threat were people like the one her own mother had once been.

"Mom. I got this. Tell me what to do."

Abby briefly looked up and at her daughter, frowning in bewilderment. "Clarke, I'm in the middle of trying to save his life, I need you to help me restrain him so I can finally take a look at his arm."

But Clarke shook her head, not budging. "You need to step away, mom."

"Clarke." Abby's exasperation was evident, and Raven shot the two of them a desperate look, making her friend sit up straight for a moment.

"Mom. He clearly doesn't trust you," she said, adding under her breath, "He's afraid. Because of what you did."

There was a shocked realization in Abby's face, and she slowly backed away, her hands held away from her body as she stood up, hovering behind her daughter.

"She won't touch you, okay?" Clarke told Finn, who stared at her, still breathing too fast, but finally a little calmer.

"We need to get him in the carriage and go," Octavia hissed over her shoulder, and Clarke didn't look at her when she answered.

"Not before the bleeding is stopped, we can't." Addressing her mother, she asked, "So, what do I do?"

"He needs to take the weapon off. We need to - _you_ need to take a look at the shot wound. From what I could see I think the bullet is still in there and it's wreaking havoc. We need to get it out."

Clarke nodded. It sounded simple enough. Except, nothing was simple when it came to shot wounds, and even with her nurse training, she wasn't exactly prepared to go digging in an Eternal's arm.

"Finn." She tried to sound as calm as possible for his sake, and she was almost surprised to see it work a little. He had turned considerably quieter. In the back of her mind she felt Bellamy's presence, and she briefly glanced over to where he was standing by the carriage with Kane, making sure the man stayed put while they got ready to go on their way.

"I need you to take off your weapon," Clarke soothingly explained, and Finn's breathing picked up again. She and Raven exchanged a look, and the brunette averted her gaze quicker, sweeping strands of hair out of her boyfriend's face where he lay half on her lap.

"I can't." His words were not much more than a breath, but Clarke had heard him clearly, and she frowned at him, not sure whether he was being difficult after all.

"You can't?"

"I don't know, it… feels like it's fused to my arm..."

Clarke gazed over to Abby, a slight panic making her hands shake, and she briefly closed her eyes to force herself to focus.

"That's not good," her mother whispered, and Clarke couldn't help but glare at her. She needed something a little more helpful than her mom stating the obvious.

"What do we do?"

"You'll have to try and pry it off."

Clarke grimaced, unwilling to inflict more pain on someone who was holding a deadly weapon so close to her face.

 _Bellamy, I need you here._

 _What can I do?_

She didn't even know why she called out to him over her link, but when she felt his instant presence, she was immediately calmer, more focused, and she bent over her patient, her hands carefully moving toward his weapon.

"I'm going to try and help you, okay?" She smiled down on Finn, and he gave a weak nod, his pale lips pressed together into a line as he clenched his teeth in anticipation. Right then, Bellamy appeared by her side, letting himself fall on his knees, ready to assist.

"She's good at this," he told his fellow Eternal, managing a convincing smile as he gently placed his hands on Finn's body to hold him down. "Just so you don't accidentally spear us, okay?"

Finn nodded, then looked away from his injured arm as Clarke said, "On the count of three."

She hadn't made it past one before she already pulled hard on the metal, but just like Finn had said, it seemed stuck, the glove-like part almost melted onto the scar on his arm, and all it did was make him yell out in pain, his body bucking and writhing as if of its own accord.

"Stop!" Raven screamed. "Stop, you're making it worse!"

Clarke was breathing heavily, feeling herself falter, but Bellamy by her side looked so much more concerned under his mask that Clarke knew she had to pull herself together, that she had to be the strong one for them all, and she knew she could do it. She had to.

"It's not coming off, Finn," she told him what he already knew, smiling at him as best as she could. Her voice was sonorous and only slightly shaking, for which she was grateful, because she needed them all to believe that she knew what she was doing, and she especially needed Finn to stay calm.

"Mom, can you get Kane over here?" she asked, and Abby paused for a moment, confused, but then nodded, understanding.

"Of course. I'll be right back."

Clarke smiled at Finn, still holding onto his arm stuck in the weapon so that he didn't have to try and carry the weight.

 _What's your plan?_ Bellamy asked, not looking at her so as not to give away his sudden concern, and Clarke equally didn't show they were having a mind communication when she replied.

 _The damage is pretty severe. We won't be able to get his arm free and if we can't get it out, we can't stop the bleeding. He'll die. We need Kane to perform his procedure and hope for the best. If he can get the Nanobots to deactivate, then maybe the weapon will come loose._

 _That's insane. We haven't even tried it out on an uninjured person yet, what if it doesn't work? Kane said the reason he was so unwilling to try it on me was because it would take weeks. With an injury like this, it's gotta be worse..._

Clarke didn't like the idea, either. The shot was surely similarly deep as Bellamy's scar. She would be surprised if it hadn't at least grazed the bone. But she was desperate and she was not willing to let Finn die. She wasn't willing to let anyone die anymore. This was their only choice.

And maybe, if it worked, there was hope to heal Bellamy quicker, too.

 _You're still worried about me. I'll be fine, Clarke._

 _Yeah. I'm just… I felt what the weapon does to you, Bellamy. And I don't want that for you. To be honest it terrified me, how good it made me feel through you._

Out of the corner of her eyes she saw his jaw work, and she knew how agitated he was, how guilty he felt.

 _Don't feel like that. I know it's not by choice,_ she assured him, but of course words could never be enough.

She looked over to the carriage, getting nervous for her mom to return with Kane. The man seemed like the type who worked well under pressure, who excelled in situations like theirs. She really hoped she was right, because they needed it. She felt Raven's gaze on her and tried to smile reassuringly, but it fell a little short.

"What are you going to do?" the girl asked, sounding so different from her usual confident self that it pained Clarke.

"Kane will just have to work his magic and kill those Nanobots and then we'll take care of the rest."

"You think it's gonna work? What if it doesn't?"

 _Yeah, what if it doesn't?_

Bellamy shot her a glance, too, and she decided to look down instead of dealing with the two. "You'll be alright," she told Finn but she noticed that he was starting to drift off, that his body was starting to shake.

"Kane!" she yelled and he finally appeared, following her mom, their steps on the sludgy ground heavy and hurried. He quickly kneeled down, not caring about his too nice pants getting wet, and laid out his instruments, a bottle of his secret liquid prominent among them.

"Please, do something, but not this." Raven was sobbing now, and Clarke tried to get her to look at her.

"Raven. It's our best chance."

"What if it kills him? Those Nanobots, we don't even know what their function in the human body is. Maybe… maybe they are the only reason they don't succumb to the radioactive metal material inside of them. Maybe he'll die if we kill off the bots—"

"Raven, stop." Clarke shook her head, but Raven wasn't finished yet, and it was probably for the better, because talking kept her from interfering with what Marcus was about to do.

"You can't know that it'll work, Clarke. What if it was Bellamy? You didn't seem so happy when he was about to get the treatment."

"Raven, if it helps you, I'll have Kane pour some of his stuff on my arm first, okay?" Bellamy suddenly interrupted her and Clarke shot him a concerned glance that he shrugged off.

 _Come on, we've been over this, Clarke. We were willing to risk it, right? So if she needs reassurance—_

 _I'm not arguing. I get it. Do what you have to do, but we gotta do this now! Wells won't be able to hold his people off for long and we need to get going. And I'm not letting Finn die here._

 _Okay._

His answer was so short that it startled Clarke for a moment. His features had softened when she looked at him now, and her shoulders slumped.

"Kane, you got enough to pour a little on my arm first?" he asked out loud, and Marcus gazed over at him puzzled, stopping in the middle of what he was doing. He raised an eyebrow, then broke into a grin.

"Ah, I see. You don't trust me after all. Or, should I say, you don't trust my assessment that the procedure will not do harm, hence you not telling me before that Finn here is an Eternal just like you. You lured me into this, Blake, into coming on this journey with you. Now, do you honestly think I'd risk my life by administering something that would kill this poor kid?"

Bellamy raised his eyebrows. "I don't know. Would you?"

Kane lightly chuckled in reply, a sound so out of place in their current situation that it was jarring. Then he quickly picked up his bottle and what looked like a scalpel and beckoned for Bellamy to show him his arm, which he carefully did. He had taken off the weapon while talking to his sister earlier and was now ready to unravel the bandage he had put on in its stead. But Kane jerked his head at him, still a grin on his face. "I'll just need a little access, don't take it off all the way, no need for you to be in complete agony. I know how marvelous - and necessary - those bandages are." He winked, then, when Bellamy offered him his wrist, added, "This is gonna be a bit… unpleasant."

He nodded at the small blade, but did not wait for a reply before he swiftly cut into the now visible scar and Bellamy sucked in air through his teeth as the sensation raced from there through his whole body in a shockwave. Clarke was ready to step in, was opening her barriers wide already, allowing his pain to wash over to her so she could share it, ease it, but then, just as suddenly, Kane poured the liquid and it was almost like a crackling surged through their bodies as he did, a strange sense of turmoil as they all watched the cut part of his scar flicker and dull ever so slightly.

Clarke held her breath, fear and anticipation nearly rendering her immobile, but then she lifted a hand away from where she had still held Finn's weapon to gently lay it on Bellamy's arm, and her gaze met his.

 _It's working_. Clarke's amazement was palpable. The feeling had been short, but very sweet, exhilarating, freeing. The procedure was working and there really was hope for them all. Marcus Kane was right. Whatever he had done, it took away the pain, and it didn't matter how many treatments Bellamy would need, Clarke was ready and excited to wait through all of them until he was healed. It was working.

But there was no time for dwelling on it, for even thinking about it right now. No time to regret not having started the procedure way earlier. Because Finn was dying, his body suddenly starting to seize, and Clarke almost lost her grip on the weapon, making them all gasp out as Kane leaned away in obvious revulsion.

"You can put your bandage back on," he told Bellamy without taking his eyes off the weapon in front of him. "I think I proved that it's not going to kill anyone. Whether it can help the kid, however, I can't say. This was never intended as an actual medical treatment…" His voice had started to shake ever so slightly, and he was looking up to Abby, as if waiting for her agreement, and to Clarke's surprise, her mother merely smiled down at the man briefly before nodding.

"Thanks for trying, Marcus. It can't get much worse. There is no treatment for cases like this, and he's dying. We gotta hurry…"

"Shall we, then?" he said, trying for a chipper tone again, and despite the situation, Clarke couldn't help but think he was doing it for her mom's sake. "You might want to get back to holding him down. The weapon, too, please. I don't want to accidentally end up a head shorter…" He tried grinning at Raven, too, but the girl was only glaring at him, then averting her gaze to look at Clarke, then Bellamy.

"Just… do it. Please. He only did this for me, he can't die now. It was never supposed to be like this. It was never supposed to be him, Bellamy. They came for _me_ ," she confessed, sobbing, startling the others, making Bellamy frown.

"It's alright, Raven, we'll do what we can, okay? Finn is strong," he tried telling her, looking helplessly over to Clarke, not quite understanding.

"No, he isn't. You don't understand. He was never meant to be an Eternal. He wasn't even the right age yet. He just volunteered when they came to cut me, because he knew how much I was afraid, even more so than he was. I didn't want to become one, I hated the prospect with such a passion. When they came to get me, he just walked up to them, offering himself up, so they would spare me, and they really did. I don't even know what he told them to persuade them. But it can't have been good..."

Her voice got swallowed by such harsh desperate sobs that Clarke felt the urge to wrap her arms around her, but she couldn't. Kane was just then pouring the liquid over Finn's arm, still trapped in the weapon's grip, and they all waited with bated breaths for any kind of reaction.

 _Please work_ , she thought, and she could feel her own tension mirrored and multiplied in Bellamy. They all needed this to work. Not just because of the obvious, because Finn was one of them, their friend. But also because it was what they had set out to bring to the people, it was the one thing that they had to offer to make peace happen. It was a weapon as much as it was a cure - if it worked.

...

And it did…

…

They all watched as the liquid frothed up, working its way through. Wherever traces of silvery blood had trickled, the liquid followed, and Kane kept slowly pouring. He seemed tense. The rain had plastered his hair to his forehead, strands of it dripping before his eyes, but he didn't have a hand free to push them out of his face.

"There's an electromagnetic component in here," he explained, clearly as a way of relieving stress, and Clarke and Bellamy glanced at each other briefly, noting everything the man was willing to spill about his secret.

Raven absently nodded, stroking Finn's now calm looking face. He had lost consciousness before the procedure and was hopefully not feeling any discomfort for the time being, but of course they couldn't be sure.

"Can we get him into the carriage now, we really need to leave," Octavia urged when they were still just sitting there, waiting, and she had lost patience. It was too dangerous to stay. They were sitting ducks there, out in the open, and the cold rain could easily give them hypothermia if they weren't careful.

She was relieved when Kane finally turned to nod at her and she and Lincoln quickly moved over to help them all move Finn into the carriage. Octavia caught a glance of Clarke still holding the weapon, and she took the other girl's arm briefly to nod at her hands, a sudden worry washing over her.

"Let me take care of that. You'll want to clean your hands. Maybe Kane will even let you use some of his concoction." She indicated the tiny traces of silver Finn's blood had left on Clarke's skin and grimaced as she saw her brother's partner look at her with genuine shock. Whatever she may have thought about their weird connection, she had seen for herself how good Clarke was for her brother, how naturally they behaved around each other, and in all the years - even before he was turned into an Eternal, she had never seen Bellamy so calm and almost at peace as he was with Clarke by his side.

If Abby's case really was anything to go by, they should be careful, at least if they wanted to keep their bond alive, and Octavia for one, was hoping they did.

Clarke rasped out a quick thanks as Octavia took the weapon out of her hands and quickly moved to rub her hands with the last remains of slush on the ground. She left her to it, following the others to the carriage, making sure the rest went swiftly now.

When she saw that Bellamy, Raven and Kane had placed Finn on the floor of the carriage, she stepped over to him, grabbing his shoulder briefly, whispering, "Go check on Clarke. She didn't wear gloves when dealing with this…" She jerked her head in the direction of the weapon, then the injured Eternal, and Bellamy made a face at her, nodding a quiet 'thanks,' before he left her there. "You gotta get her over here. Now."

With that, she got ready to sit on the small bench in the front, where Lincoln had already taken a seat, ready to steer the horses away as soon as Clarke and Bellamy were back.

Octavia tried to smile at her boyfriend briefly, a small smile, which he returned, and she allowed herself to lean against him for just a moment. "When this is over," she whispered, "will you go to the mountains with me? Maybe we can find some peace there, far away from everything…"

"I'll go anywhere with you, Octavia Blake."

* * *

…

"Clarke." Bellamy called out to her, worry marring his features when he eventually appeared in front of her. "You okay?"

He noticed how vigorously she was scrubbing her hands and he gently but firmly stilled her movements, making her look at him. Distress was apparent in her face, and he smiled at her briefly before his frown took over.

"What is it?"

"I got his blood on me."

He nodded, gently rubbing over her hands, even when she tried to pull them away. "It'll be fine, Clarke. Your mom dealt with the metal for years before it affected her. We can be more careful from now on…"

"I know. It's just… Is it weird that I realized just how much I want to keep this bond? I know we haven't really had time to talk about it properly, and of course we'll have to make that decision together, but—"

"I don't want to give it up either," he finished for her, his smile back, stronger, and finally, she smiled, too, leaning against him when the stress of the last few minutes finally caught up with her and she took a shuddering breath, fisting his drenched clothes with her fingers so desperately as if she was afraid he might just vanish.

"I can't let you go anymore, Bellamy," she breathed, and felt him chuckle against her.

"Well, lucky me," he whispered back. "Because I don't want you to let me go, either."

When she slowly emerged back up to stare at him, her frown reappeared as she took him in, noticing the blood on his temple that the rain had washed down the side of his face, and her fingers moved up to touch him, when he took her wrist, shaking his head.

"Just a scratch. I'll be fine," he muttered, and she desperately had to believe it. "Let's go, princess. Finn still needs you. I know your mom would not hurt him, but if he wakes up, I'd rather it be you he sees than her. Let's just make sure you don't touch his blood anymore…"

"My mom probably has extra gloves…"

He nodded at her, then they finally got going, Bellamy holding Clarke against him in a sideways hug, trying to keep her warm in the cold rain.

 _I love you, Clarke. Bond or no bond, it's not gonna change anything now._

She looked up to him briefly, her hair all wet streaks around her head, and she smiled at him. _I love_ you.


	30. Princess

…

Clarke stared at her mother in frustration, her whole body getting tired from being so tense. Octavia and Lincoln were finally getting them all on their way, urging the horses to go as fast as they could to get as far away from the site of their encounter with the Golden troops as possible.

Under the wood beams of the carriage's canvas canopy, she was busily trying to dig the projectile out of Finn and hopefully staunch the bleeding soon, before it was too late. The rattle of the carriage against the uneven rubbly ground didn't make her endeavors any easier. Sweat had mixed with the rain and was threatening to cloud her eyes, and she wiped her forehead with her arm in an effort to prevent it.

"I can't see anything. It's too freaking dark in here."

"Let me try," Abby offered, agitated and equally frustrated because she had been sidelined by her daughter and her friends. "He's still unconscious, plus the weapon is off. He likely won't know who helped him and he certainly won't be able to fight us much if he does." She stared at Clarke, then Raven imploringly, but it was her daughter who shook her head, angering Abby. "Come on, Clarke, you don't want him to die. Let me help!"

But right then, Clarke's expression suddenly changed and she finally presented them with the deformed looking bullet. "Got it," she breathed, then turned to look her mother directly in the eyes. "I know you only want to help, mom. But I got it. Okay? - Kane, more of the liquid, now. If we can get the Nanobots out enough so that I can actually stitch this up a little, that would be great."

"The scar is too deep and deformed now, after that kind of injury. I don't think it will work," he said, concentrating hard on the arm in front of him, getting his bottle ready anyways.

"Try. Please. It doesn't have to heal him completely, just around the gunshot wound. We can take care of the rest later, but I need to get the bleeding to stop and I can't if it's like this…"

Clarke had her fingers back in Finn's arm, all business, quelling the blood flow right at the source, where a large vein had been severed in an unclean way. Her mom had instructed her on how to keep it closed, but she had also urged Clarke to hurry if they wanted to salvage the kid's arm. If they kept the circulation off for too long, amputation would be their only option, and if Abby had learned anything from dealing with Eternals, it was that for some reason amputation usually caused death. After what she had learned from Marcus, she was beginning to wonder whether it was a fail safe mechanism the people from the Before had built into the Nanobots, making it impossible to excise them as if they were just a tumor. Then again, nobody in the Before had probably ever dreamed up a world in which people created Eternal soldiers, young people branded with radioactive metal to turn them into super soldiers, unknowingly spreading the Nanobots more and more across the world.

Abby swallowed, forcing herself to focus on what was in front of her. She had to be there for Clarke in case she needed her again. Kane was just pouring more of the liquid onto Finn's arm, when the kid suddenly opened his eyes again and blinked in confusion at Clarke.

She almost jumped. "Finn!"

"What happened?" he breathed, the words barely intelligible, and he tried to turn his head to search for Raven, who was holding his hand, his head still in her lap. She smiled down at him, wiping away a few tears on her cheeks, and bent down to kiss him briefly.

"Hey," she whispered. "You got shot, remember? But Clarke and Kane got the weapon off. The bullet is out and now they just have to stitch you up. Okay? So you need to hold still for a little while longer, can you do that?"

He gave the smallest of nods and watched as Clarke smiled at him, too, her hands now hovering over his left arm, needle and thread she had gotten from Abby's supplies held at the ready. "I'm afraid it's gonna hurt," she apologized, but he merely smiled at her briefly, before his eyes clouded over a little again.

"I'm used to it." He grimaced over to Bellamy, who returned the gesture, a small smile of his own briefly playing across his features before he sobered again. He was sitting right by Clarke's side, ready to keep Finn from moving too much, and when he placed his hands on the younger Eternal's upper arms, he looked to Clarke and nodded.

Finn grinned at them all, then closed his eyes, taking another heaving breath. "Ready when you are, princess."

"Can't you all just stop calling me princess already?" Clarke blurted, a sudden annoyance getting the better of her, and Bellamy beside her began to chuckle. "I'm sorry," she said in a small voice, before concentrating back on what she was about to do, "it's just… I'm not a princess, okay?"

"I guess she never heard the song, huh?" Finn whispered to Bellamy conspiratorially, and Raven rolled her eyes at them both.

"How could she? It's Silveren lore. Unless Bellamy enlightened her, she wouldn't know. It's stupid anyways."

"What is?" Clarke was curious and willing to use this whole conversation to keep Finn from focusing too much on what she was doing. If she could keep them all talking, maybe he would stay calmer. Quietly, she nodded at Kane, who finally stopped pouring the liquid when the skin around the shot wound had eventually lost all remnants of the silver sheen, the fresh blood now the red color it was supposed to have.

"I need your hands here," she whispered, indicating the place where she kept pressure on the vein, and he took over for her while she started to very carefully put her needle to use. Finn hissed out in pain, a shiver raking his body briefly, but he quickly got it under control, only his accelerated breathing indicating that he still felt the pain.

"So, what song have I been missing out on?"

Bellamy grinned awkwardly, shaking his head briefly. "It's nothing," he said, but Raven's loud "Nuh uh" made him reluctantly elaborate after all. He shot his friend a glance, making a face.

"There's a song about a princess that most of us learn when we're little. One of those that mothers sing to their children." He stopped, and Clarke could feel a different pain emanating from him briefly before he reined it in. Rare good memories of his own mother…

He sighed, rolling his eyes at Raven in annoyance. "Well, anyways. It's about a princess with golden hair and an Eternal and their love for each other and," he faltered, feeling awkward when he continued. "The whole song is basically just a sappy story explaining how true love can conquer all, even the mark of war."

"It's kind of your story, Clarke," Raven said, winking at her, and it was good to hear a little more lightheartedness in her tone. "It's really cute, actually. We should sing it to you someday. Honestly, Bellamy, I can't believe you didn't tell her."

"Yeah, well. We didn't have much time for songs yet…" He glowered at her, and her features softened. She whispered an "I'm sorry," and he finally managed a small smile in return.

"Huh," Clarke made, putting down her instruments and inspecting her handiwork. Then she finally stretched, rolling her shoulders, before smiling at Bellamy, then Finn. "I think we're done here for now. Just need to wrap this up, and you're good for a nice long sleep. You got your bandage?"

He nodded at her weakly, indicating a pocket in his coat, and Abby quickly moved to grab it, handing it to her daughter. Finn shot her a worried glance, his breathing picking up, but when Clarke laid a hand on his chest, shaking her head, it was enough for him to ignore the doc once more.

"I know she's your mom," he breathed, looking for a way to explain, but he didn't need to say any more. Clarke understood. She smiled at him gently, then took the bandage and carefully wrapped his arm.

"It's alright," she whispered. "I get it. But she's not gonna hurt you or anyone else, okay? And if anything is the matter, you just tell _me_."

He nodded at her, his eyes already growing heavy, and she exchanged a glance with Raven, smiling at the girl when she mouthed a "Thank you" at her.

"All done," she finally announced, looking at Finn again, who was barely conscious by then. "Now rest, okay?" she told him, and he had already closed his eyes before Clarke had been able to get back up and slowly sit down on one of the small benches, sighing exhaustedly. Bellamy quickly followed her, his leg touching hers when he sat down. She smiled at him tiredly when he pulled her against him, and she took a few deep exhausted breaths, gently placing a kiss on her temple.

"Good job there, doc."

She glanced over at him. "I think I did like princess better," she whispered and he gave a chuckle.

"Alright. Princess. Now, why don't _you_ try and rest a little and I wake you when we stop?"

She wanted to argue. There was so much still to talk about. Maybe Kane could start the procedure on Bellamy, too, maybe they should talk about how quickly he could make more of his precious liquid and what it would take to do it, but she suddenly felt so ridiculously tired that she merely nodded and snuggled up closer to him.

"Sounds good," she mumbled, then, before she had a chance to say anything else, she had already fallen asleep in his arms, the gentle swaying of the carriage lulling her into a deep sleep.

* * *

…

"Looks like you found yourself a good one."

Lincoln had sent Octavia inside when the rain had gotten harder again and she carefully sat down in the small spot that was still free right next to her brother, smiling at him and the girl in his arms, an expression he easily reciprocated.

"If you had told me a year ago all this would happen, I would have called you crazy."

"Crazier," she corrected and got a small chuckle out of him.

"Or that, yeah."

Octavia sighed, leaning against a wooden beam in her back, staring at the other tired occupants of the carriage. Raven was swaying back and forth with every move of their vehicle, still holding Finn in her arms, who was sleeping under her watchful gaze.

Opposite her, Octavia noticed Marcus Kane, that strange man she had a hard time deciphering, quietly conversing with the doc. If she was being honest, she had believed in some long con Clarke and Abby were playing for a moment when it had turned out that the doc was Clarke's mom. She had almost come to Bellamy about it, telling him to be extra careful, but now she was glad she hadn't. He might have called her even crazier.

She wasn't even sure what had changed her mind. Maybe it was Clarke's whole attitude toward her mom, her cautious questioning of Abby. Maybe it was the way she had seemed sincerely shocked by the fact that her parent was still alive.

No, all that wasn't it, though. It was the way her own brother had looked at Clarke, so open like she had never seen him look at anyone aside from herself. There had been a raw truth hidden somewhere inside of his gaze that had pained her to see at first, almost as if it was the promise of losing him to another girl. But then she had rolled her eyes at herself, at her stupidity. She knew she would never lose Bellamy if either of them had a choice in the matter, and Clarke with her hands-on attitude, her strong will had turned out to be the perfect partner for her shuttered brother, who was more vulnerable than he would have ever admitted.

But Octavia knew. She had seen it for herself, just like she had seen an unknown happiness in his face whenever he was around the Golden.

And there was a bonus there, too. She smirked, making Bellamy frown at her.

"What?"

"I'm still… amazed that you of all people are bonded, that you found yourself a totally non-Silveren girl. You, who was always so annoyed with me for choosing the wrong company."

It was his turn to roll his eyes, and he subconsciously tightened his grip on his girl. "Yeah, well. I was wrong, okay? Although not about most of your questionable choices." He gave her a pointed look that made her nudge his side in protest.

"Hey."

He grinned, but sobered quickly. "Seems like you found yourself a good one, too, O." He jerked his head in the direction of where Lincoln was stoically steering them toward the downpour, and Octavia's features softened.

"Yeah," she breathed. "I really did…"

She grabbed her brother's hand affectionately and like that, they eventually fell silent, allowing themselves to doze a little with open eyes.

* * *

...

When Clarke awoke, she was still pressed against Bellamy on one side, his warmth making her feel strangely at ease.

"Hey," he whispered in a sleepy voice when he noticed she was up, and she smiled at him, before the reality of their situation came back to her and she sat up straight rather abruptly.

"Take it easy," he told her as she looked at him apologetically.

"I just want to check on Finn real quick."

"He's fine. Your mother had a look when he was out. Don't worry, I was there to watch her every move and the kid didn't stir anyway."

Clarke huffed, yet didn't say anything, but Bellamy could still feel her displeasure at having slept through that. Finally she muttered, "I promised him she'd stay away."

"Yeah, well. Nobody needs to tell him. I know Raven isn't going to, and neither am I, or your mom. She _is_ a doctor, Clarke. And she did her job."

"I know. You're right." Something was battling inside of her, and he looked at her curiously. _You alright?_ he asked her, when he couldn't see past her barriers, and she slowly nodded.

 _I'm fine. It's just been a lot to digest, I guess. My mom being alive. Seeing Wells again. Almost losing Finn, and you._

 _I was never in danger._

She scoffed disbelievingly. _You had pretty much all the guns of the Golden pointed at you. One sneeze and they'd have shot you._

 _They had orders not to kill…_

She rolled her eyes. _Yeah, so they could torture you again._

 _Clarke_. His features softened, and he gently tapped her face to make her look at him. When she finally did, there was a darkness in her eyes that worried him.

 _It's all in the past now. No one is gonna torture me, or you, or any of us. We got away. Your friend Wells did the right thing in the end, and now it's on us to make the best of it._

A long shuddering breath escaped her as she finally leaned back again next to him, all fight and tension leaving her body as she did.

 _It's not just that. It's what comes next. Do we even know what we're doing, Bellamy? All these people's lives depend on us. My people, yours, the Neutral Zone. If we mess this up, there's no knowing how bad either side could retaliate._

Clarke felt like the weight of the world was on her shoulders, and he couldn't blame her, because in a way they really were carrying that weight. At least he would be facing his own people, but if she got caught somehow, or even just implicated, it could start a dangerous spiral downward for everyone: a Golden sabotaging the Eternals, and the Eternal source itself, it sounded like a suicide mission.

 _I'm not gonna let anything happen to you_ , he simply said, but they both knew he couldn't make such promises, didn't know whether he could keep them. A weary sigh escaped Clarke in reply, and she snuggled closer to him again.

 _It's alright,_ she allowed. _All I need to know is that you and I are doing this together. I can make tough decisions, for myself, and others, but not if I don't have anyone to fall back on._

 _You'll always have me…_

* * *

…

The rain had finally let up, but the ground was muddy underneath them and it was high time for a break for all of them. The horses were barely able to go on anymore, spent from hours of pulling the carriage, and Lincoln had finally steered them toward the large and looming ruins of what must have once been very impressive buildings. They hoped they would be able to hide among them for a bit, while they all got more rest and could come up with a real plan.

The air had taken on an a slate gray color tinging the world around them even darker. High and crumpling, some buildings rose many feet into the sky, while others had collapsed into giant piles on the ground, and to Kane, it all looked a little like the pictures he had seen of the moon somewhere high above them. Gray, and dusty, full of craters.

As soon as they had eventually set up camp, he volunteered to go on a supply run with Abby, to inspect the strange forlorn place a little more, and he quickly found himself following her through dark tunnels and hills of debris, thinking of all the lost souls probably buried underneath.

"Not a very pleasant place," he said, trying to make conversation, but for some reason Abby had fallen rather quiet. Just a few hours earlier, he had enjoyed a nice little chat with her while the countryside went past them in a wet and drizzly blur, and he had believed he was actually getting through to her a bit, but now she seemed like a completely different person.

He decided to let her be for a while, let her figure out whatever it was that was going on in her, but soon, he got tired of the silence, and went for a second try.

"Okay," he said, bending down to inspect a few old looking pipes and smiling to himself when he found that they were made from copper. Good. He could use some materials to stock up on supplies for making more of his special solution, even though he had hidden a good amount of it away in a secret hideaway under the false floor of his carriage. "What's going on with you?" he asked, trying to loosen the pipe and panting when it took way more effort than he had anticipated.

Abby was a few feet ahead of him and hadn't even noticed yet that he had stopped until then. She turned around to look at him, a frown wrinkling her forehead, and he quickly shot her a smiling glance.

"Come on. You've been awfully quiet since we stopped.

"It's nothing. - Do you need help with that?" She pointed and he nodded.

"It's for the procedure. Gotta make sure I have all the supplies I need to make more. Bellamy has officially started his treatment, and so has the injured kid." He gave a chuckle. "I still can't believe they tricked me. They should have told me there was another Eternal in our midst. Could have saved us all a lot of trouble, the kid especially. Oh well, he's paying for it now. No more easy treatment for him."

Abby was glaring down at him, no more than a foot away now, and he furrowed his brow at her angry expression. "What?" He looked up to her innocently, but she shook her head.

"You knew, Marcus. Don't play games with me. You could have called them out on it, but you didn't." Abby's gaze was shuttered, and Marcus sighed. She had seen right through him. Of course… "What do you really want?"

"Abby…" He sighed, the pipe suddenly coming off with a clang and startling them both. They didn't know how alone they really were out here, so they had to be quiet and careful and maybe he had just jeopardized their safety by being careless. They both listened into the quiet for a while, and when they couldn't hear anything, he picked up the piece of pipe and they both went on their way again.

"So?"

"Like I said, I'm a businessman and the war is starting to affect my trade a little too much. Money is my means of staying comfortable and pave my way to achieve almost anything I want and if that is compromised, I'm willing to put in a little work to get that under control again."

"I'm supposed to believe that a 'businessman' would risk his life to go on a mission like this? Straight into Silveren territory, to a source of Eternal metal. That a 'businessman' is willing to cure Eternal soldiers just to have a chance of getting his business back to being more profitable." Abby gave him a disbelieving glare and Kane shrugged innocently.

"Well, yes?" It sounded like a question even to his own ears, but he hoped his smile was winning enough to persuade her - which of course it wasn't.

"Right," she huffed, leading the way over heaps of rubble, her clothes beginning to look as dusty as his. He grimaced. He should have brought a few more spare outfits. But he would have to do without the amenities of city life out here. Fine, he could do that, too.

"Alright," he grumbled. Abby froze in her tracks and he squinted at her as she half turned toward him, her expression guarded but interested. He sighed. "Can I trust you?"

"Are you honestly asking me that now, Marcus? You barely know me, I know next to nothing about you. But you helped save the life of an enemy soldier back there and are on your way into enemy lands with me. So, yes, by all means, you can trust me, if only for the sole reason that I stupidly trust that _you_ 're a good person deep down."

"Deep down, huh?" He chuckled, but she wasn't in the mood for that and quickly resumed her walk, forcing him to pick up his pace to be able to follow her. "I'm… I'm a mixed blood," he eventually said, his voice quieter than before, and Abby shot him a glance. "Yes," he confirmed, "that means there's both Silveren and Golden blood in me. Since both people aren't all that obviously different, it's not difficult to hide and blend in. Unless it comes to such beautiful things as the bonds. They wouldn't even let me try. I got a shiny little mark in my records telling everyone who didn't have the business to know that Marcus Kane is not a pure blooded Golden. In this world, there's things I am not lawfully allowed to do, among them owning my own business, or marrying and 'procreating.'"

He air quoted the last word, grimacing at Abby, whose face suddenly showed a smidgen of real compassion. He sniffed, climbing to catch up with her until he stood not an inch away from her. She didn't move, just looked at him.

"See," he continued, getting tired of hearing himself speak. "That's the real reason why I'm willing to do all this. My parents gave me away, or, my mother did, seeing as my father probably doesn't even know I exist. Relationships like the one of your daughter are not exactly well received, and if there's offspring in the mix, it gets worse. But I got lucky. I have a few talents, and a few good friends and managed to make myself a pretty decent life. But it gets lonely at the top when you aren't welcome anywhere. I have all the privileges that can be bought with money. But money can't get me everything. And I want everything. So that's why I'm here. I'm willing to risk it all to get what I want, a world that accepts us all, a world where people like me can walk freely and meet and marry whoever they want. I want that for your daughter, and maybe one day for my own child."

He didn't even know why he was telling her that whole sermon, she was a stranger after all, and he didn't expect anything from her. Certainly not the kiss she suddenly placed on his forehead, making him startle and look at her in confusion before a smile appeared on her face.

"So you _are_ a good man, Marcus Kane," she breathed, then she nodded ahead. "Come on, the others are probably waiting for us."

* * *

…

Clarke had followed Bellamy deep into one of the ruins where they were looking for a decent spot to spend the day and the next night. The horses needed a break, they all needed a break, especially Finn, and Lincoln, who had been awake for almost two full days and was now resting with a watchful Octavia by his side.

The two of them had given most of the ruins a cursory glance right at the beginning, just to make sure no one was hiding among them and could attack them when they least expected it. But now they were looking for the safest place to spend the next few hours, hidden away from prying eyes, hopefully away from the rain and cold, and without being in danger of being buried alive.

Bellamy had pointed out a construction that looked like it had once been an archway of some kind, Big pillars looming into the sky, a large slab of concrete or some type of rock having fallen against one of its sides, turning it into a stony tent of sorts. When they guardedly entered the space now, they quickly spotted a darkness in the back that turned out to be a hole, or more likely an old entranceway. They exchanged a glance and wordlessly decided to see where it led.

 _Did you know this was here?_ Clarke asked, communicating over her link to not alert anyone to their presence, and Bellamy shook his head in reply.

 _I mean, we're already getting close to the Eternal site, so I'm not too surprised. This must have been part of whatever big city got bombed here during the Last War. The maps have this whole area marked down as not suitable for living, but you know how it goes. People try to settle anywhere…_

Clarke pressed her lips together as she thought about it. _I honestly hope the radiation out here won't kill us then. Although the half-life period should have come and gone by now, right?_

 _Yeah._

Bellamy trailed off. They had been walking for a while, following the way as it went further downward, and now his attention had gone elsewhere. Clarke frowned and tried to follow his gaze when she saw what he was looking at. Before them, the hallway-like structure was opening into what looked like a large room, tall walls framing it on all sides, the ceiling like a vault above them. The remains of wide picture frames hung on the walls, but other than that, the place was almost bare but for a few forlorn benches and chairs to the sides. It looked like it must have once been the ballroom of a very important place, though of course they couldn't be sure.

Clarke came to stand right next to him, both of them stopped in their tracks for a moment.

"It's almost pretty," she whispered, forgetting caution, because the place seemed so detached from life as she knew it.

"Yeah, if it wasn't buried under tons of rubble and smelled like old air," he said drily and she chuckled.

"Looks like the perfect place to spend a night or two, then," she told him with a chipper voice and he nodded with a sigh.

"I guess you're right."

She gave him a curious glance, something suddenly dawning on her. "You hate being underground."

He made a face. "Gives me the feeling of being buried," he admitted, not looking at her. But he allowed her a glimpse at some half formed emotions, memories, images, and she understood. Slowly, she grabbed his arm, a bold determination taking hold of her.

"Well, we'll be spending the next two days here, because it's the best place we could find. So why don't we try and add some better memories first, to make it a little more bearable?" she suggested, walking so close up to him that their bodies touched and she could feel his heartbeat pick up as he tilted his head, looking at her suspiciously.

"Better memories, huh?"

She nodded at him, her mouth slightly open, and they forgot everything else for a while, when Bellamy suddenly put his hand behind her neck to pull her even closer until her lips touched his in a clashing kiss, and soon, they were at each other as if in a fight, pulling off their clothes as they went, so fiercely as if nothing else mattered anymore, and deep down they knew it didn't. Not right then, because this moment was for them alone, and they needed it more than anything else.

When Clarke eventually stood naked in front of him, Bellamy leaned over to touch her gently, making her breath shudder against him, before they let themselves fall down on the pile of their clothes, still damp from the rain and mud, but they didn't care, it felt as perfect as Kane's fancy sheets had felt before.

They didn't speak at all, not one word, not even in their minds. It was all just a dance of lithe limbs around each other, entangled, intertwined as if they really were just one body, tasting and licking, tongues and hands one firm caress, and when she looked up at him, so hot and beautiful, he was sure he was going to explode. But he didn't want to, not yet, he wanted this time to last forever, wanted to feel her, her warmth, her tight embrace, and he swiftly pulled her up, slung his arm around her, using the other to role them both around until he was on top of her, smiling down.

His eyes flickered at her with a dark passion, and hers widened in anticipation before he gently kissed his way down, his muscles moving in his arms as he trapped her wrists in his grip, and she was ready to let him have his way with her, stretching herself, arching her neck, her back, bucking when she felt him, again, and again until…

* * *

…

After, when they were happy and spent, lying tangled together, Clarke's head against Bellamy's chest, her arms around him, her leg over his, and they were still very much naked under the dome above them, they talked about what would have to come next. They wanted to stay in their bubble of bliss for all eternity, but they both knew they had important matters to attend to first. They would have to talk to Kane again, question him on how exactly he intended to shut down an entire Eternal site, where the rare metal for the weapons was mined. It certainly wouldn't be as easy as healing one Eternal. Besides, they had to find their way in…

"Where is the site anyways?" Clarke eventually dared ask Bellamy, knowing full well that it was a sore subject, since his mother oversaw that one personally. He gave her an inscrutable look, kissing her temple briefly.

"Not as far as you'd think. Probably just another few days away from here, if I'm not mistaken."

She raised an eyebrow, then nodded. For some reason she had always expected the site to be deep within the core of the Silveren territories, not as close to the Neutral Zone.

"I guess that's better than I expected," she allowed and he frowned at her. She smiled. "That way it'll be over soon. Let's hope Kane can really pull it off. Then we'll go from there."

Bellamy was very quiet all of a sudden, almost withdrawn, and Clarke gently touched his neck, his face, to make him look at her.

"It's your mom, isn't it?" Her question was met with a grimace and a sigh. He remained quiet for so long she was ready to believe he was just going to pretend she had never asked, but finally, he did meet her gaze.

"I haven't seen her since… since she turned me into what I am…" He ran a hand through his dark hair agitatedly, and suddenly he looked a lot less like a strong soldier and a lot more like the hurt boy he had once been. Clarke felt so much sympathy for him she could barely breathe.

It was so strange to her still, sometimes, how much he affected her, how much his happiness meant to her, how much his pain hurt her, too.

"Well, if you do run into her, I'll be right there with you," she muttered, "you're not alone in this, Bellamy, okay?"

There wasn't much more she could say, but it was enough. He pulled her closer, his touch so fierce it almost hurt, and gently kissed her.

"Thank you, princess."


	31. Rest

...

Clarke opened her eyes, confused for just a moment when she saw the high ceiling above her. With a quick look to the side she made sure that Bellamy was still where he had last been, and there he was, eyes closed, for once looking peaceful. She enjoyed seeing him getting some much needed rest, his face completely relaxed, finally not a hint of blazing uncontrollable pain visible in his features. She closed her eyes again, letting her thoughts wander for another quiet moment.

Bellamy may not have been suitable for quick healing through Kane's mysterious procedure, but thanks to the stronger, older bandage he at least had a chance at a life with less pain already. Kane had also offered to gradually start with the treatment, and Clarke felt hopeful for the first time in a very long time. It could work. She had seen it on his wrist, had seen the even stronger effect on the shot wound in Finn's arm.

It could really work.

 _It will_.

Clarke startled when she heard Bellamy in her mind, and she looked over to him again, where he was now gazing at her, a smile on his face. His arm was wrapped around her, and he pulled her just a little closer, kissing her when she smiled in return.

"I didn't know you were up," she muttered.

"I wasn't really until now," he said, smiling, slowly moving to sit up.

"And already in my head?" Clarke smirked at him, and he wagged an eyebrow at her.

"Not my fault that you can't stop thinking about me."

She scoffed and rolled her eyes, but smiled as she playfully slapped his bare chest.

They allowed themselves a few more minutes of light banter and light touches, but then they disentangled with heavy sighs and moved to put their clothes back on.

"We shouldn't have fallen asleep," Clarke said, pulling her pants back up, then grabbing her still damp sweater, making a face as it touched her skin.

"I know. Hope it wasn't for too long. The others kinda rely on us."

"Kinda?" Clarke made a face. "We're the reason they're all even out here, and in this dangerous situation."

Bellamy swallowed, his mouth just a thin line when he nodded reluctantly. The moment of peace and quality time was gone and they quickly grabbed the rest of their things to get moving. Their friends needed them, needed rest, and this place would have to house them all for at least a day if not more. They all needed to be strong and ready if they wanted to take on Aurora and her mining site, and right now, they were just a small group of weary people, not even all of them soldiers, and one of them still pretty gravely injured.

"Let's get going," Clarke whispered, and Bellamy nodded at her, a different pain now emanating from him, and she quickly grabbed his hand, stopping him before he could walk past her and back toward the hallway.

"Hey," she made, and he met her eyes, his dark again, hers still hopeful. "It'll work. All of it." She gave him a pointed look and he gave her the smallest of smiles. "It has to."

* * *

...

Octavia was ready for it all to be over, for them to be getting back on their way. For meeting her mother.

When Clarke and Bellamy had returned with the news of a decent shelter for the next few days, she had almost wanted to slap her brother. A hideout under tons of rubble? Thick walls all around them? Even with a ceiling almost as high as the sky, it still felt like a tomb, and it was no wonder that Lincoln had refused to set foot in there for too long, preferring to stay out under the real sky, guarding them from there.

Of course she had come with him, it hadn't even been a question. She had always felt more at home out in the open, among the birds and trees and creatures of nature, among the deformed and other outcasts of society. She smiled to herself when she remembered how often Bellamy's shoulders had slumped when he had given her a lecture on what was and wasn't appropriate or dangerous, and how she had always ended up doing it again: running away, to the woods, the waters…

It was a wonder he didn't have a mop of gray hair by now, after dealing with his ornery sister for years.

"Are you alright, Octavia?" Lincoln had walked up to her so quietly that she hadn't heard him until he stood right in front of her. She smiled up to him, not even angry with herself for having allowed it to happen. He was just that stealthy, and she was way too tired.

"I could use some sleep."

"Sleep, then." It was as simple as that for him, and she envied him sometimes. With a shuddering breath, she took his hand and let him help her stand up. She had watched over his sleep for the last few hours and now it was her turn. She yawned, swaying in front of him as he cupped her face in his hands. His callouses felt rough and reassuring against her skin and she smiled up to him briefly, before taking his hands in hers.

"I will."

He smiled back at her knowingly, seeing right through her like he always did. "You really have to try. Your mother is not here yet, Octavia, Captain's daughter. And she has no power over you here."

"I wish that were true," she breathed, and for a moment, he intensified his touch.

"It is."

But it wasn't. Aurora would always hold power over her, wherever she went. She had abandoned Octavia the moment she had been born, only carrying her to term because of whatever dark plans she had concocted in her corrupted broken mind, and Octavia knew that even if Bellamy's grand plan succeeded, even if Aurora was dead, her mother would still always be there, somewhere at the back of her mind, tainting everything she did.

Unless Octavia made sure she had a hand in eliminating her from hers and her brother's lives...

* * *

…

The room, so large, so empty, seemed to tell of tales long forgotten, balls maybe, get togethers of people wearing fancy dresses, sipping expensive drinks, talking about amazing technology, or maybe even plotting the end of the world, and Raven felt a sense of awe lying under its canopy staring up at a world gone by.

She had heard Octavia calling it a tomb, and she agreed, though she didn't think it was a tomb for any people, just their dreams, their futures. The spirit of the Before seemed to live on down there and she couldn't shake the odd feeling that they all shouldn't stay there for too long.

She wrapped her arms tighter around Finn, who was still sleeping an uneasy sleep right next to her, his pain ebbing and flowing inside of him like the tide, waves crashing over him, sometimes pulling him under, sometimes bringing him back up to the top. Kane had given him a few more treatments, to ease the pain, and she could see the man bending over Bellamy now, giving him a round of the miracle liquid next. She saw Clarke stare over at her briefly and smiled at her, both of them sharing the same worry about what their boyfriends might have gotten themselves into.

They were both guinea pigs now, nothing was certain, and while Raven had always been fascinated with whatever little tech they could still get their hands on and could reproduce, could develop, she was also wary and worried that those nanobots were a little too advanced for them to take on.

It was strange, really. The technology seemed like it should be coming from some alien life forms out in space, someone much more advanced than them, but it had been their own ancestors, as if time was moving backwards, development becoming undone.

Which was kind of the case, of course, thanks to the mistakes of their forebears.

"You alright, Raven?"

She looked up, startled to see Bellamy look down on her, when she had just seen him over by Kane, and she frowned at him in confusion.

"Weren't you just getting your first official dose of Marcus Kane's finest over there?" she asked, and he grimaced a little, but grinned.

"Yeah. Can't in good conscience have poor Finn go through this untested treatment all by himself."

She rolled her eyes at him. "Bellamy Blake, always the one looking out for others, even if it means he gets himself in trouble over it."

He chuckled, though she had only been half joking. In fact, she was a little upset with him and he quickly caught on to it.

"What's going on, Raven?"

"I'm…" She pressed her lips together, searching for words. Her brain was a jumble of thoughts and emotions, she only allowed herself to sleep for a few minutes at a time now that Finn needed her, and it was beginning to take a toll on her. "I just don't want you to do anything stupid. I know what a burden, what a terrible pain the weapon is, believe me. You know I do. Seeing Finn deal with it daily is the worst punishment I could have ever gotten for allowing them to spare me. Not even carrying the weapon myself could have been that bad and I have to live with that for the rest of my life. But, Bellamy…" She paused, crossing her arms, contemplating her next words.

"Maybe you should both wait with the treatment until we've faced the Captain, until Kane has shown that his secret cure does work on something as large as an entire mining site."

"Raven…"

"No." She held up a hand, needing to get it out before she would lose the courage to do so. There was a chance she would lose him as a friend if she continued, but she had to, for his sake as much as for her own. She couldn't ever let anyone make such a grave mistake again as Finn had made for her. Yes, it had been his choice as he kept reminding her whenever it came up, whenever she let him see how upset she still was about it all, but she still felt like she was to blame.

If only she had been a little stronger…

"See, we are just a handful of people really, with not much time. If we had time, we could amass an army, could recruit the people of the Neutral Zone, could make so much of Kane's potion that we could just ride in and douse everyone in it. But we don't have that time. So our only weapon is the moment of surprise. No one is expecting us, no one knows that this liquid, this 'cure'," she air quoted, "exists. So we need to use that to our advantage and get it all over with quickly. Take the site out, take the Captain out. - And whatever you want to believe, having two functioning Eternals with us could make all the difference. You know how heavily guarded the sites are. Especially her favorite…"

...

She gave Bellamy another pointed look and his expression turned grave. He knew she was right, even if he had wanted to tell himself she wasn't.

 _She has a good point, hasn't she?_ Clarke said in his mind and he almost nodded, but reined it back in.

 _Yeah, unfortunately._

 _It's okay. The treatment is not running away. We'll just wait a little. We'll stay here another few days until Finn is better, and then we'll go on our way. And after, Kane can give both of you the treatment, we can all lay low here again. For weeks if we have to, get you two healed up and go back out for part two of the mission: showing the world that there is a cure for all Eternal wounds, and even all Eternal soldiers out there._

She smiled over from where she was sitting with her mom, sipping a tea, making conversation, and he briefly smiled back, before returning his attention to Raven.

She was squinting at him. "Did you two just have a moment? You did, didn't you?"

He rolled his eyes at her. "Can't ever hide from Raven Reyes of the Bonded Detection Unit, can I?"

She smacked her lips, finally starting to sit up to be a bit more of an equal conversation partner, but he stopped her, knowing all too well how rare and precious moments in which they could be so close to the ones they loved had become for all of them, and he didn't want to cut her time with Finn short even by a minute.

"Nah, you stay and rest a little more," he said, and she nodded, a small smile lifting the corners of her mouth. "And later, when Finn is up, we'll all talk, okay?"

"Okay…"

He waved lazily over to where the others sat around a small fire, where Clarke sat, and Raven's smile widened. "Go," she mouthed. "Even if she's in your head, it's not enough, is it?"

He merely shook his head, then got up with a last smile down at her. "Thanks for being part of this. I know I don't say it enough, but—"

"I'm the best friend you ever had?" She smirked, making him chuckle. But they both knew it was true, just like they both knew it was not exactly Bellamy's strength to say thank you and to acknowledge that he liked someone. She had spared him the 'worst,' and he was grateful for that, too.

"Talk to you later."

"Yeah…"

With that, he went over to Clarke, and Raven closed her eyes again, snuggling up closer to Finn, listening to him breathe. She gnawed on her lip, wondering whether she had just doomed him again, because she already knew he would never oppose her suggestion. He would promptly stop the treatment and fight that last fight by her side, by Bellamy and Clarke's side. Just like he had done everything for her in the past, walking into his downfall with a smile on his face.


	32. Planning the impossible

...

When Clarke woke up in the middle of the night, she quickly noticed that her mother was not in her spot anymore, and she frowned. It wasn't Abby's shift. They had worked out a roster before, and Clarke was pretty sure that according to that, Kane should be out there now, making sure no one found their cave among the ruins.

Quietly, she disentangled herself from a sleeping Bellamy, a wave of affection and regret crossing her face as she carefully placed the arm he had wrapped around her back by his side. But the night was still young and she fully intended to slip back under the worn blanket with him once she had located her mother, and before their own shift started.

…

The sky was so dark so far out that the stars were as bright as beacons from a former life, and for a moment Clarke marveled at it all in the crisp cool air, her breath leaving her in wafts of mist as she gazed up at those old old constellations high above her head. Had the people from the Before seen those very same stars? Or had more of them died since then, and the lights they had still been able to see were now dead, too?

She sniffed, stifling a cough, then walked further out into the open, until she could see Lincoln and Octavia huddled up together under an awning of sorts, where two or more buildings had collapsed into each other like houses of cards, and she was surprised that they were actually both asleep for once, their bodies lying so close together as if they were one. Like Bellamy and her… She smiled to herself, before the worry came back.

How strange to think that Bellamy's sister was here with them, too. That the siblings would soon see their mother again, unless they miraculously lucked out there and wouldn't have to. But chances for that were slim, and Clarke didn't have high hopes there. She was worried about the reunion of their clearly defunct family, worried first and foremost about Bellamy, but also about his sister, who had strangely grown on her with her slightly reclused air but also a warmness when it came to her brother. Bellamy needed Octavia, and Clarke had found that his sister needed him just as much, that she became a little milder when he was around. Something in her past had hardened her, but being with her brother seemed to have brought back whatever she had been before, during their childhood.

What worried her most, however, was what Aurora, Captain of the Silveren, would think of her, her son's bond-partner, a Golden… Her fear was ridiculous, of course; why would the woman have anything other than contempt for her, or disregard? Clarke meant nothing to her. But she was bonded to her son, and Clarke knew what a complicated, changed relationship the two had. Aurora hadn't always been the terror she was now, and Clarke couldn't quite quell the hope that maybe, just maybe, they could actually get through to her on another level than violence and threats.

She didn't get to pursue that thought for much longer, because right then she spotted her mother animatedly if quietly talking to Marcus Kane. They were both hidden in the shadows, barely visible from where Clarke stood, but even from a distance, she could sense a certain familiarity between them that startled and confused her. She pulled her coat closed, hugging herself as she watched them for a bit, unable to look away, strangely captivated.

There was not much to see. The two were almost mere shadows; every now and then their teeth lit up in the light of the low hanging moon, and she could see rather than hear Abby or Marcus chuckle lightly.

Clarke had to wonder what Marcus Kane really saw in this trip. An adventure? Something that made him feel alive? He had been putting on a facade ever since they had first met him, like he didn't have a care in the world. But she had quickly realized that the opposite was true. That he was lonely, that there was something deeper hidden inside of him, something he played away with cocky aloofness.

Seeing him with her mom now made her wonder about something else, too, something she wasn't sure how to feel about: what was Abby seeing in the man? Because it was clear to Clarke that her mom had taken a surprising liking to him. She tried to hide it, tried to act like she didn't care or didn't notice that he was flirting with her, if carefully and casually. But Clarke knew her mom. Even after not having seen her in five years, even after learning that Abby was not who Clarke had believed she was, deep down, she still knew her mom, knew the little ways Abby showed interest and affection, knew the traits in her features that gave away her amusement or her disinterest.

Clarke had seen firsthand that Abby liked Marcus, and she hoped it was a good sign and that the man was worth it, was worth all the trust Bellamy - _they_ _all_ \- put in him.

…

She gnawed on her lips, watching the two older adults interact for a little while longer where they casually stood guard, then she huddled deeper into her coat once more and made her way back into the grand room where Bellamy and the others were still resting.

When she reached the spot where she had curled up with him earlier, she smiled down for a moment, enjoying the peace of sleep on his features before she, too, laid back down and cuddled up right next to him, snaking her arms around him, holding him tightly, until Octavia came to wake them both up hours later.

* * *

…

Kane had given them the night. He had seen how exhausted they all were, how drawn their faces looked. He had simply known he was the one in the best condition and if he wanted their mission - his mission - to be a success, he figured it couldn't hurt to take on a little more of the burden for a night. Gaining Abby Griffin's approval had maybe been the real reason why he had done it. He had told her he was going to let the kids - because that's what they really still were - sleep as long as possible, and seeing Abby smile at him and decide to keep him company for most of the night had been the best reward for his seeming selflessness.

But now morning was there and they needed to wake the others and talk about how exactly they wanted to achieve what they had set out to do. The escape had only been the start of something way bigger than themselves, and while he was not a man with many fears, he certainly didn't like to be unprepared.

...

Clarke felt much better after a night of sleep, but she could tell how agitated Bellamy was. He had not liked it when he had realized what Kane had done, not waking them up, but Clarke told him to swallow his pride and be grateful, and he gave her a look and moped for a moment, but then grudgingly admitted that she was right, and Kane had been right, too, because he _was_ feeling better, they all were, but it still didn't sit right with him that the man had made that decision alone. They would have to watch him closely, because Bellamy wasn't going to risk Kane pulling a stunt like that during their mission.

The conversation they had just started about how to proceed was the perfect way to make sure that they were all on the same page and that everyone would then stick to whatever plan they came up with.

 _Relax_ , Clarke told him, shooting him a covert glance that he reciprocated, but shrugged off.

 _He gets under my skin, is all. The way he inserts himself in the group as if—_

 _As if what?_ Clarke's expression was mild, and he made a face. He could feel her slight amusement, and he couldn't really blame her, either. He was just not used to any older adult looking out for him in an almost parental fashion and he didn't know how to deal with it, especially when he didn't even know the person properly.

He sighed, changing the direction of his thoughts. _I just… wish I knew why he's really doing this. Helping us. He could have said no. Bringing him along right away was a test, and he came. But now he's part of this already and I just want to make sure he won't thwart our plan at the last minute._

 _He won't. My mom said he's not half bad._

 _Your mom, who you haven't seen in over five years._ He gave her a pointed look and her eyes flickered.

 _Yeah, I know. Thanks for reminding me._ She glared at him for a moment, but his sympathetic face and feelings made her soften again quickly _. But yes. I still trust her. Is that so bad?_

 _No. It's understandable. But don't expect me to do the same. To me she's just as suspicious as he is. She was part of the Eternal Department, an infiltrator of the worst kind. I'm sorry, Clarke, but I can't trust her._

He saw her swallow, saw a darkness in her eyes that pained him, but he also felt her understanding. She couldn't be cross with him over how he felt, and neither could he. They simply had to respect and live with what the other one thought.

"Alright," Raven was saying loudly, getting everyone's attention. "Since we're all very well rested now," she winked at Kane, "it's time to make a plan. If we want to get to Aurora's site and destroy that one first as a symbol and a warning, then we need to get past her guards. We need to make sure no one sees us approach. And we need to know where exactly Kane needs to put his magical 'cure all' for it to do the most damage."

"Right." Kane nodded, and Bellamy cleared his throat as he now took a large piece of paper out of his pocket and unfolded it in front of them. It was a worn map of the Silveren territories and Golden lands, the Neutral Zone a large meandering band in between. He pointed a finger at the outer corner of that band now, a thick dot not far from it.

"This is the nearest city. Tondc. We're headed for just a little outside of it. Here." He pointed again, everyone's eyes on the map. "It's the largest Eternal site there is. Not one, but two Big Ones went down in very close proximity there, and the site is where most, if not all Eternal Metal is mined. If we can destroy that, the Silveren will pretty much be completely out of material to sustain their war efforts anymore. And from there, it's a much smaller step to get the Eternals to cooperate and collect whatever weapons are around."

Abby frowned, deep in thought. Marcus was about to ask a question, when she beat him to it. "What makes you so sure they will give up?"

"What?" Bellamy gave her a blank look, but Clarke beside him seemed to understand what exactly her mother meant.

"The Eternals?" she asked back, and Abby nodded. "You of all people should know, mom. No one wants to live with that pain, and if we show them that a cure exists, and with Bellamy and Finn we can, then I'm sure they will eventually - even if not right away - take that step."

Abby sighed. She couldn't argue there. She did know how bad the pain was, not just from when she had inflicted the wounds, but from when she had seen her husband. His calm, mild face appeared before her then, and she had to close her eyes and look down for a moment, holding her face in her hands. Clarke was slightly agitated, but didn't say anything else.

Octavia cleared her throat, pouring over the map next to her brother. "Right. So that's roughly five days to a week or so away from where we are now. If we stay close to the edge of the Neutral Zone for as long as possible, we should be safest from detection." She sketched in a rough route, looking to Bellamy for confirmation, and he nodded at her in agreement. Then she went on. "Especially if we spend another night here, making sure no one is coming for us." She looked up again, gauging the others' reactions. "I mean, this has proven to be a pretty good hideout, probably better than anything we'll find on the way, and at least Finn could use another day of recuperating before going on the road again."

Clarke saw the others nod in agreement, only poor Finn dropped his head, looking slightly uncomfortable at having been singled out.

"Okay," Raven said, sounding too chipper even to her own ears and she cringed a little as she looked over to Finn. "Well. So we know where to go. Kane, where do we have the best shot at doing the most damage. And how exactly does this work anyway? Can we expect the same reaction as with your little experiment, or Finn's injury?"

Marcus swallowed visibly, running a hand through his hair. "This really should be child's play. - If executed correctly, that is." He looked at Bellamy and Octavia, raising a finger almost warningly. "And if you manage to distract your mother and her guards long enough for me to get down to the core. Because that's where we'll have to pour the liquid if we want to do the most damage. Anywhere else, and the integral structure might survive, but down at the very core, where the remains of the Big Ones should still be, if we do it there, it'll spread everywhere, a chain reaction if you will."

He fell silent, taking in the doomed looking faces of the others.

"What about the radiation down there?" Clarke asked, and Kane grinned.

"Shouldn't be a problem if we can get out fast enough."

"Fast enough? As in?" Raven stared at him suspiciously.

"A minute."

"A _minute_?! Are you freaking insane?! How are we supposed to pull all that off in a minute?" Bellamy ran a hand across the back of his neck, standing up. He started pacing, too agitated to sit any longer. Clarke shot him a glance, and he grimaced at her.

 _This is a stupid idea._

Clarke smiled mildly before a grim expression returned to her face. _We knew that before…_

He gave her a doomed look, but just then, Kane continued.

"Relax," he said, sounding strangely calm. "You do your part of the deal and keep your mother occupied, and I'll do mine. No one beside me has to go down there. And I can be very quick. Trust me."

"Trust you?!" Bellamy raised an eyebrow, but it was Octavia who got up and laid a gentle hand on his arm, shaking her head, whispering something that took some of her brother's tension away. Clarke wanted to know what she had said, but his walls were all up, his mind impenetrable and they had both come too far in their relationship for her to try and force her way past.

Bellamy glowered at Kane, but nodded, and the older man chuckled.

"Okay, so… a minute at the core. But how long to get there?" Raven tried to get them back on track, back to planning, and Clarke shot her a grateful glance that earned her a fleeting smile.

"Half an hour each way," Bellamy explained and Kane nodded. "You'll have to do that part alone, too, then. The rest of us will have to try and deflect the guard's attention."

"How many guards are we talking about?" Finn looked up at him from where he sat leaning against the wall, still quite obviously not back to his former self, but at least looking much more alive again, less pale.

Bellamy bit the inside of his lip, then replied in a quiet rasp. "At least 50, probably closer to a hundred."

Finn's eyes widened alongside everyone else's. "You're kidding."

Bellamy shook his head. "I wish I was…"

"Alright! And that's why I had the crazy idea for you and Bellamy here to stop the treatment until this is over," Raven suddenly blurted, grinning a little too brightly before shooting a guilty look at her boyfriend, before she averted her gaze, grimacing at the others.

"It'll be good to have two Eternals, I guess…" Finn trailed off, an unreadable expression on his face for a moment before his eyes lit up with a somewhat forced seeming smile, and he said. "I better check how well my Weapon still fits, then, after that friggin' gun pierced right through it…"

With that, he stood up rather abruptly, making Raven follow him with her eyes, worry and guilt on her features. Clarke grimaced at her sympathetically, and Raven made a face and sighed quietly.

Kane had picked up on the small drama unfolding in front of him, and this time, it was his turn to steer them back toward what really mattered: a plan that would work.

"Don't worry, Bellamy," he said. "Provided the core is right where you told me, I should be in and out in an hour, then, right? Be prepared to leave then. Don't wait any longer. The liquid is a fairly certain way to kill the source, but with that amount of metal, it will also act as an explosive once it has been absorbed completely and you don't want to stick around for when that happens."

Bellamy glared at him. "That would have been nice information to have beforehand," he hissed. "We wouldn't have needed to bring the others, put them at risk."

"You're worried about your friends," Kane stated soberly, and Bellamy raised his chin, taking a few steps toward him until he stood not an inch away from him, bristling, not giving the other man room.

"You just sprang the news on me that whatever you intend to do will make the entire freaking site detonate and you think I'm worried about my friends?" He said with a voice so stony that Kane's smug expression wavered ever so slightly, when Bellamy comtinued, "Hell yes, I am. Are you? I mean, do you have anything or anyone you really care about here? Or is this just a game to you?"

Kane didn't get a chance to answer, because right then, Raven yelled out a livid, "What?!" Had Finn not rushed over again to hold her back, she would have gotten between the two men within seconds, making the heated situation worse.

"Come on." Kane's eyes flickered as he turned away from Bellamy, and looked to the others, ending on Abby, who stared at him with her arms crossed in front of her, shaking her head in disapproval. He shrugged at he half apologetically, then put a step or two of distance between himself and the tall kid in front of him. "It's not that big of a deal, is it? If things go according to plan - and they should - it won't matter much. We'll be well on our way by then." He smirked at them all, but Bellamy still looked like he was ready to strike a blow, when Clarke intervened, firmly grabbing his arm and shaking her head at him.

 _Take a step back,_ she calmly ordered him, but with understanding in her tone.

 _Does he really not care? His nonchalant attitude—_

 _Bellamy._

 _Fine. You deal with him, I'm gonna_ … He didn't continue, just turned away from Kane with another glare, his shoulders, his whole stance showing his tension.

Clarke watched him for just a moment, quickly concentrating on de-escalation. She looked at Kane, inclining her head to scrutinize him.

"We do need to be prepared for the worst case scenario, too," she levelly said before any of the more heated parties could talk, and they all seemed to instantly calm down again the slightest bit. Clarke took a deep breath, exhaling slowly. They didn't need this: discord among themselves. They needed to work together, trust each other. They needed to get it over with.

Kane's jaw muscles were working as he looked at her, contemplating.

"What else do we need to know?" Clarke asked challengingly, guardedly, and he sighed.

"I will be pouring the liquid in as soon as I'm down by the core. It's an accelerant, makes the metal corrode, get porous, pretty much just like what you saw in my study."

"What if it won't?" She was trying to ask all the important questions, even if it meant repeating herself. They needed the answers, and they needed them as precise as possible. Not just their own lives were at stake, after all.

But Kane merely grinned at her, scoffing. "Trust me, it will."

She glared at him, seeing right through him. "Okay. Fine. What about if the explosion happens sooner than you're anticipating?"

"It shouldn't."

Before Clarke could explode at Kane, Bellamy suddenly shoved him, hard. "What if it does?!"

"Easy, Blake." Kane's stare was dark and insistent. Suddenly, all mirth was gone and there was just seriousness left. "If it does happen too soon, we better be as far away as possible. It's gonna be a big blast. That's why I want you all to just go as soon as the hour is up. We'll meet at the designated spot. You just run. In either case. We should have plenty of time, but if not…" He gave a pointed look, not saying the words. "You get my drift."

"Awesome. Now this just sounds like a total suicide commando," Raven huffed and rolled her eyes.

Bellamy exchanged a glance with Clarke and rolled his eyes, indicating Marcus. _Thanks for staying level-headed. I'm about ready to tear his head off. That attitude_ …

She smiled at him briefly. _He's just putting on a show. He's scared, too._

Bellamy made a face but didn't argue. Then he said, out loud so that the others could hear it, "Kane, you and I will go alone. You guys," he looked at the rest of them, "will wait a little further out, away from the site. I'll let Clarke know how things are going and if they're not going according to plan, you'll come to our aid-"

"No," she interrupted him, sudden fire in her expression, and Bellamy frowned at her, a little surprised by her vehemence.

Neither of them paid much attention to the world around them for the next few minutes, both of them locked in a deep mind conversation.

Kane exchanged glances with Abby and the others, then shrugged, quipping, "You think those two are talking about us right in front of us?" He grinned, but no one was in the mood. Raven openly scoffed at him, Octavia rolled her eyes, while Abby shook her head.

"Why don't you just shut up for a change?" Finn angrily blurted, throwing the pack with his wrapped Weapon on the ground a little too roughly, and Raven frowned at him with concern while Kane waved his arms in mock surrender.

"Testy," he replied, still grinning, but for some reason he didn't pursue it, instead whispering something into Abby's ear, and she made a face at him.

Clarke hadn't noticed any of it, because she was still busy convincing Bellamy of a better plan.

"Let us stay together," she said out loud. "No more splitting up. We need everyone, and we need them inside the mining site perimeter."

"Clarke." He sighed, sounding so weary that she looked up at him worriedly, placing a hand on his chest. They looked each other in the eyes, and she could suddenly read so much in his, feel so much of his emotional pain.

"Listen. I know you can't walk in there with me by your side, but don't let us wait so far out. We need to be close on your heels, to distract the guards from the beginning, not just when you're already on your way out."

"With Kane's added info, I don't want any of you in immediate danger.."

She gave him a look. _Bellamy..._

 _I don't want to lose you, Clarke. Or my sister, or any of the others. What if it does go south?_

 _It'll work_ , she insisted. _As long as we stay together._

She stared at him, as hopeful as she could muster. She could see it work in him, feel it battle inside of him, until eventually he sighed and very quietly whispered, "Alright." Nothing else, just that one word, and Clarke smiled at him before she leaned in to gently kiss him.

...

Their plan _had_ to work, one way or another, but even if it didn't, what mattered was that they were in this together, until the end.


	33. To the mining site

…

When they were finally done making plans and the tense atmosphere had dissipated somewhat, Bellamy and Clarke had a short moment to themselves, and she quickly wrapped her arms around him.

 _One last night here then. I'm almost ready to be on the road again._

Bellamy sighed, and his heartbeat picked up a bit under her touch. _Yeah,_ he agreed, _this place wasn't exactly my favorite._

 _Not even after…_ She trailed off, looking at him suggestively and he chuckled softly.

 _Well. That did make things better…_

 _I bet Kane felt right at home. This looks eerily like his living room._

Clarke shook her head, looking at him mildly. _Let it go, Bellamy. Come on, he's not that bad._

He raised an eyebrow at her. _I don't know about that. He's…_

 _He gets under your skin. Like most everyone else does._ She smiled and he glowered at her, but he knew she was right. He still wanted to argue, anyways, and to prevent himself from doing so, he changed the direction of their conversation, gently disentangling himself.

 _I should check on Finn._ He pointed over his shoulder casually, sighing. Raven seemed to be quietly arguing with her boyfriend, and Bellamy was pretty sure he knew the reason why. It made him feel responsible, though of course he wasn't.

 _It's not your fault, Bellamy. We all have to make sacrifices. You're making the same as him. But…_

 _I know. But the kid's still injured, his weapon's gotta be even more uncomfortable to wear than usual and he probably thought this was all over for him now that Kane started the treatment._

He made a face and Clarke gently cupped his cheek for a moment, making him look at her.

 _And you?_ she asked, and he averted his gaze. _Did you think this was all over for you, too?_

He scoffed, shaking his head. _I don't think this will ever be over for me…_

 _Yes, it will._ Her voice inside his head was firm. She had to convince herself she believed it if she wanted him to believe her, too. He had to, he needed something good to focus on beside the greater good of the people.

Clarke knew they were doing the right thing, even if it meant more pain and hard decisions for all of them. The pain of the few seemed like a small enough price to pay for the greater good. But she also knew that all of that sounded good in theory, yet it was way harder to actually live by it. While she was willing to give her all and sacrifice herself, while she was fully prepared for more pain along the way, she had trouble accepting that it meant those closest to her would have to suffer too, first and foremost among them Bellamy.

 _But you're right, Clarke. The few for the many. It's always been like that._

She sighed, hiding her head against his chest for a moment. _I know…_

Then they reluctantly parted and Bellamy walked over to Finn while Clarke went to talk to her mom.

* * *

…

"Still fits?" Bellamy had reached Finn quickly and was now leaning against the wall, watching the younger one try his weapon on. Finn made a face, then nodded.

He watched as Raven shot him a helpless glance, dropping her hands at her sides, and he nodded to her before she pointed over to the small fire.

"I'll help them with dinner…"

Once she was gone, Bellamy looked at Finn questioningly. "Listen," he began awkwardly, not at all comfortable talking to this kid whom he barely knew. "I obviously can't make you be part of this, but it'd be a major help."

Finn shrugged. "I said I'm in and I meant it."

Bellamy frowned at the other one's harsh tone, and crossed his arms. "Okay…"

Finn hung his head, taking a shuddering breath, but not saying anything. He looked so defeated all of a sudden that Bellamy couldn't help but feel sympathetic. He might not have really known the kid at all, but the fact that Raven Reyes had decided he was worth being her boyfriend, and what he had done for her, was enough for Bellamy to treat him like a friend for the time being.

"It's okay to hate it, you know?" he said with a small smile and Finn stared at him blankly, so lost that to Bellamy's surprise he suddenly felt real compassion for the younger one.

"What?"

"The Weapon. Being an Eternal." Bellamy paused, his gaze meeting Finn's. "Having made the wrong decision..."

"It was never wrong," Finn quietly allowed, sighing. "I wouldn't have ever wanted her to have to deal with this."

"I know."

"I just... those guards; I don't think I can..." Finn was stammering, and Bellamy had an uncomfortable inkling why. "Do you think we'll have to kill them? A hundred people..."

Bellamy looked down, his heart growing heavy. He usually tried not to think about things like that much beforehand, tried to handle it when the time was there. But the kid didn't tick that way. He needed answers, though he didn't need or want what Bellamy had to say. "Yes," he eventually breathed, and he looked up again to see a flicker go through Finn's eyes as he pressed his lips together, nodding.

"Listen," Bellamy tried, "these people are the most loyal guards the Captain has, okay? If I saw any way of not killing them, I wouldn't. But these guards can't just be restrained or knocked out or—"

"I know," Finn blurted heatedly, then quickly reined in his feelings. "I know. I just never thought I'd have to..." His voice was wavering, almost breaking, and he let it trail off. Bellamy clenched his teeth, feeling sorry for the kid in a way he hadn't seemed possible, because he saw a little of his own younger self in him, and he grieved that person he had once been.

There was a long moment of silence, until Finn suddenly asked, "How do you do it?"

It was Bellamy's turn to frown at him in confusion so that Finn elaborated. "I mean, you're linked, right? How does that work with the… with this?" He raised his arm ever so slightly, then nodded toward Clarke.

Bellamy grimaced, contemplating how much to say. Finn looked so hopeless somehow that he decided to go for the truth. "Honestly? I think if it weren't for her, and how strong she is, I wouldn't be here anymore."

Finn raised his chin, still frowning. "Yeah?"

An almost solemn nod was the answer, and Bellamy swallowed. "Clarke is the stronger one of us for sure." He paused. "You know Raven feels horrible about you volunteering."

"Ya, she doesn't tire of telling me. I know she would have been better at this than me, too. I just…" Finn rubbed a hand over his face wearily, finally putting his weapon back yet again. And Bellamy finally understood.

He sighed. "No. Finn." The kid wasn't looking at him, was basically ignoring him, and Bellamy took a few steps toward him until he was almost right in front of him. "Listen. It's none of my business, but if I know one thing about Raven it's that she's extra hard on the ones she cares about the most. But behind her attitude, she just hides how much she beats herself up over what happened, over not stopping you. And now, she also beats herself up over prolonging your pain."

He gave Finn a look and the kid stared at him, flustered. Bellamy's expression softened. "She knows that what is best for the cause is not best for you," he tried to explain with a jerk of his head toward the now discarded weapon, and Finn made a face in reply.

"She's not forcing me to do anything."

"No, she isn't," he said pointedly, eventually just patting the younger Eternal on the back. "But she _feels_ like she's forcing you; and she's worried about you. Cut her some slack. Whatever you two have been fighting about?" Bellamy shook his head, smiling briefly. "Make up before we head on out tomorrow…"

He didn't stay to see it work in the kid, or to talk to him longer. He wasn't even entirely sure what exactly they had been talking about, and why he had felt the need to talk to Finn in the first place, but for some strange reason he suddenly felt better, and he had to smile when he felt Clarke in his mind again.

 _That was nice of you,_ she told him.

 _Was it? I don't know…_

 _I would have probably told him to just pull himself together and stop moping._

He chuckled briefly, watching her as he slowly approached her, and she looked up through her lashes briefly, still talking with her mom.

 _No, you wouldn't. You're a better person than you make yourself out to be. You're the one with the compassion._

 _I'm the one who keeps pushing for us to get rid of whoever gets in our way…_

Her tone had darkened considerably, and his smile evaporated. She felt guilty and conflicted, and he knew why. She wasn't wrong. She had pushed him, and herself to do whatever was necessary to get out and on their way. But she had been right to do so. It was them, and their mission before everything else now. They had so many people to save that they needed everyone with them to be completely and unequivocally on their side. They couldn't afford anyone's qualms or disagreements to get in the way of that. Bellamy just hoped he had gotten through to Finn on a deeper level, and that he had truly understood what was at stake: no more discord, no more selfishness until the mission was over.

 _I think he did…_ Clarke quietly said and Bellamy looked over to where Raven was now leaning her head against Finn's shoulder, her arms wrapped around him so tightly as if she was never going to let go again.

* * *

…

The conversation with her mother strangely unsettled Clarke. She and Bellamy had just agreed on how important it was that they all trusted each other, that they were a functioning team, and now here she was, frowning at her mother's seeming infatuation with Marcus Kane.

"He's not a bad man," Abby told her and while Clarke may have agreed, she was still more suspicious of him than her mom.

"What makes you trust him so much?" she asked, squinting at her mom while she watched as Octavia kept their little fire going. She and Lincoln had hunted down a nice boar and for the first time in days they would all be able to eat a feast of a meal. They had needed that, especially so close to going on the road again. Clarke shivered at the thought. They had decided to leave the carriage behind and just take the horses so as not to draw as much attention to themselves, and the thought of sitting on one of those big animals again for hours on end, days, didn't exactly help with her mood.

"Clarke?"

She looked up startled, realizing that Abby must have spoken with her, and she apologized quickly.

"Sorry, mom, what did you say?"

But Abby merely grinned and pointed to where Bellamy had appeared by their side, bending down to help his sister with her prey.

"Nice catch, O," she heard him say and he winked at Clarke briefly when he noticed her gaze on him.

 _So he does get under your skin too._ Bellamy grinned over at her and she made a face, then broke into a grin, too.

 _Maybe a little,_ she allowed.

 _Sneak out in a few?_ he suggested, and she had to stop herself from nodding.

 _Yes please…_

"Anyways." She returned her attention to her mom. "I'm willing to trust him, too. For what he's been trying to do for Bellamy, and Finn. I'm just… I don't know, I'm still worried he could balk on us when we really need him."

"Tell you what. I'll go with him. When the day comes—"

"Mom, no." Clarke shot into a straighter position, shaking her head. "I just got you back, I'm not going to let you walk down to a potentially lethally radioactive metal core."

"Clarke." Abby smiled sadly. "I appreciate you allowing me back into your life after everything. I highly doubt I even deserve it, not with what I've done. Your… boyfriend and Finn can attest to the cruelty and horror of that to an extent."

"Mom. All that is in the past now. No one is blaming you—"

Her mother disagreed, shaking her head again. "They are, Clarke, and they have every right to do that. But I'm trying to earn yours and their trust back. I want to be a part of this. I've done horrible things for both factions in this war, now it's time to do something good, and if that means keeping an eye on Marcus Kane, then I'll be his shadow from here on out…"

As if to prove it, she winked over to where the man sat, smiling over at her, and Clarke had to fight the urge to roll her eyes. She pressed her lips into a thin line, then nodded grudgingly.

"Thanks, mom. But that won't be necessary, or—"

"Possible," Abby completed for her. "I know. The plan has us waiting outside until he and Bellamy are in." She sighed, then looked at her daughter again.

"Deep down, he really is a good man, Clarke."

"I really hope you're right..." Clarke fell silent, unable to say anything else, because if she went further down that route, she knew she would question their mission, question herself, and she would start to waver, all of which she couldn't afford.

Suddenly, her mom laid a hand against her daughter's cheek and looked at her so warmly, so full of love that Clarke felt a lump in her throat.

"When this is over," she began, her expression changing slightly, becoming more scrutinizing, "when Kane has proven whether he's truly on our side, do you think you'll want to sever your bond? I've been talking about it a lot with him: finding a way to do that, and I think we may have an idea how it could work..."

Clarke stared at her, swallowing. She didn't know what to say. Ever since Abby had first explained what had happened to her, Clarke had repeatedly shoved that knowledge deep down and away so that she wouldn't have to keep thinking about it. She and Bellamy agreed that they couldn't really imagine life without the other's presence anymore, but there was more to consider, and she hadn't dared allow that idea into her head until then. What if one of them died? It would doom the other one, too, and if it was her who died first, she couldn't bear the thought of Bellamy following just because of her...

 _It's alright, princess. We'll talk about it after..._ Bellamy's comforting presence calmed her a little again, but now that she had allowed the thought in finally, it wouldn't leave her again. Out loud, she said, "I don't know, mom. I really don't know. - What would you do?"

Abby's eyes grew sad. "I can't answer that for you, Clarke. I wish I could..."

* * *

…

* * *

...

The room was dark, their few lamps not quite strong enough to fight the darkness of the night. He hadn't made much money that last month, and they couldn't afford to use up too much of it for the oil. He closed his eyes, trying not to think too much about it. He needed to find a better job soon, something that would pay a little more.

There really was only one option...

"When was the last time you saw her?"

"What?" Bellamy glanced up from where he had sat at their small wooden table, silently eating the vegetables he had made them for dinner, when Octavia jolted him out of his musings. She stared at him out of dark wide eyes, a trust in them that he felt he didn't deserve.

"Mom. When did you see her last?"

He would deserve her trust even less after answering that question. He was still reeling from the last time he had seen Aurora, from what she had threatened him with, and he swallowed hard before replying.

"I don't know, a couple years ago maybe? When she made me come out to the Captain's function?"

He looked at her briefly before he slumped back over his bowl, dark hair falling into his face and hopefully hiding any trace of his lie. Octavia didn't need to know about Aurora's threat, about the way he had felt. So terrified. Part of him wanted to believe that it had been empty words to scare him, but he knew her, and he was certain she had meant it.

She had honestly thought about throwing him down that mine of hers…

"Does she ever, I don't know, ask about me? Send someone to check on us?" Octavia was fishing pieces of carrot out of her soup, glaring at them before grumpily eating them after all because she knew Bellamy had made an effort cooking that stupid soup and she didn't want to hurt him.

"O…" He sighed wearily, pushing his bowl away. "Where does that come from again, all of a sudden, huh?" he asked her, and she stared at him blankly. "Stop caring. She doesn't care about us and she doesn't deserve you asking about her or wondering about her or—"

Before he could go on or work himself up too much, she suddenly stood up. "Okay!" She grimaced at him, trying to look hard, but her chin began wobbling traitorously, and Bellamy felt yet again like the worst big brother. Octavia deserved so much better. She deserved a family, a better brother…

"I'm sorry," he breathed, walking around the table to where she still stood as if something rooted her to the spot. "I know you want to believe she thinks about us sometimes, despite everything. But she doesn't, and it's better that way. Trust me."

And just as usual, Octavia shut up about it for another couple of months before she asked again.

* * *

...

* * *

...

Time stood still for just a while as they all spent the last day together before they would finally leave on their mission. Octavia was more than ready to get going. Nothing kept her here, in this strange place among the ruins. She wanted to get back already, to the edge of the settlement, close to the forest, and dream her dream of going to the mountains with Lincoln.

"Are you okay?" Lincoln sat down next to her by the fire, watching as she roasted meat, lost in thought.

"Ya," she made, looking up briefly, but not bothering with a smile. He was not that kind of person, and she not that kind of girl. He knew her too well and always saw right through it if she didn't mean it.

"You're worried about seeing your mother."

"I'm worried about Bellamy," she stated heatedly, and he nodded, still calm, still unaffected by her sudden outburst. She swallowed, staring into the flames. "He doesn't know I know, but… our mom did things to him…" She trailed off, unable to make herself say it out loud. It felt as if doing so would somehow violate her brother even more, betray him, and she couldn't ever allow that to happen. Thankfully, Lincoln understood that, too, and didn't question her about it. "I just want to make her pay for it. Finally. I want to see her get justice, I want…"

"Revenge is an empty feeling, Octavia. It'll consume you and leave you just as empty once it's done. Nothing can fill that void, but actually giving in to it, that only makes it worse."

She made a face at him, though she suspected he was right. Whatever she did or didn't do to Aurora Blake, it wouldn't change anything, not for her, not for Bellamy. The only thing she knew she had to do is make sure that whatever happened at the mining site, her mother would not leave it alive.

It wasn't just her and Bellamy anymore. No, her world had grown long before, to include all kinds of people, and all of them had in one way or another suffered under the Captain's reign.

Maybe she could make sure Aurora died without her playing the angel of revenge. Maybe she could leave her own feelings out of it. Octavia clenched her teeth so hard her jaw revolted. She had to try. But...

Lincoln's warm touch on her neck, her cheek as he swept a rogue braid out of her face made her focus back on the here and now, and this time she did smile.

"It'll be over soon, Lincoln. And then, I want to go to the mountains with you, just like you said…"


	34. Arrival

...

Soon, they were back on the road. They had decided to leave the carriage behind because it would have slowed them down, and so they found themselves on the back of horses once more. They traveled mostly at night, hiding during the bright hours of the days that were slowly growing longer, and just a little warmer, too. Out there, Bellamy finally felt like he could breathe again, even though he should have probably been a lot more agitated because of the prospect of seeing his mother again, of Octavia running into her.

But at least the cold was finally loosening its grip on the world, and Clarke seemed happy and well rested, and it made him feel almost a bit exhilarated. If Kane came through on his promise, things would finally really change, for everyone, Golden and Silveren alike, but also the Neutral Zone in between, the independent tribes. The world would have to be completely remapped.

Bellamy absently touched his arm, then looked over to where Clarke was riding next to him, a dark silhouette against the fading light of the day. They had just packed up again to continue on their way, just a night or two longer before they would finally reach the site.

 _You okay?_ he heard her ask over their link, and he frowned at her.

 _Yeah. Are you?_

He saw her look at him, concerned, and he tried to smile for her, forcing the frown off his face.

 _I'm fine,_ she let him know, _I guess I was just… worried about you. You keep touching your arm._

 _It's nothing. If anything, it's probably more the fact that I haven't felt this good in forever. Between you and the bandage, the pain has almost become completely bearable._

She grinned, and he smiled back, marveling at how much he loved that girl. He was even more stunned to feel how much _she_ loved _him_ that sometimes he didn't even know how to deal with it. Her affection, her concern. Unlike before, he couldn't simply ignore other people's feelings anymore to focus on himself. No, now there was Clarke to think of, and it was time he got used to it, because deep down he finally allowed himself to think that she really wouldn't be going anywhere.

 _Nope. Here to stay._ She gave him a serious look, then smiled again.

 _Don't do that._

 _Do what?_

 _Sneak into my head like that? What if I'm thinking inappropriate thoughts of you, princess?_

She smiled suggestively. _Why don't we find out…_

He was about to give her a taste when he noticed Kane approach on his horse and he warded off his mind reflexively as he let himself fall back slightly so the man could catch up.

"Bellamy." Kane sniffed the night air, leaning over to the other man a little when he asked, "Smells like adventure, don't you think? Are you ready to do this?"

Bellamy squinted at him, suppressing the urge to roll his eyes. "Are you?"

"As long as you all keep the Captain and her crew occupied, yes." He nodded ahead of them, where Octavia rode next to Lincoln. "Just watch that sister of yours, I have a feeling she could ruin this all for us if she can't keep herself in check..." He winked at Bellamy, but there was actual concern in the expression, too, and he did have a point. Bellamy glanced over to Octavia, her posture grim and tense.

She was so full of anger that Clarke and Bellamy had quickly decided to keep her as far away from her mother as possible so that she wouldn't accidentally jeopardize their whole plan.

Kane raised his eyebrows. When Bellamy finally grudgingly nodded, he chuckled lightly.

"It'll work," he said, "Trust me." With that, he fell back a little until he came to ride right next to Abby somewhere behind them. Clarke and Bellamy exchanged a look.

 _I can't wait for this to be over,_ he told Clarke and felt her agreement. He clenched his jaw, thinking about how best to word his next question, though he knew it didn't matter. She would understand. _Can you keep an eye on O for me when I'm gone?_

 _I'll try,_ she replied, _but you know your sister..._

He sighed; of course he did. Octavia Blake would do whatever she wanted. There was no holding her back. Bellamy just hoped she wouldn't end up endangering her own life.

* * *

…

They said goodbye the next day, after a short cool night spent not far from the Eternal mining site and Clarke had barely been able to sleep at all, knowing that she would have to stay behind for the first half of their plan, unable to be there for Bellamy the way she had wanted to. But they needed every spare person to engage the guards patrolling the site, keeping them from detecting Kane, and so she would wait until Bellamy gave her the signal that he was in the large tower that was looming over the whole place, and that held his very own personal nightmare.

Now he was kissing her softly, holding her neck in his strong grip, and she wished the moment would never end. When it did, when they reluctantly pulled apart, Clarke pushed herself off of him, forcing a small smile onto her lips.

"I'll still be right there with you," she let him know, "I'll be here," and she gently tapped his temple, then let her fingers slide down the side of his face, to his mouth, tracing his lips before she broke contact, already missing his skin under her touch even though he was still right there in front of her.

"I know... I love you, Clarke."

She almost didn't want to hear him say that, it felt like a goodbye of a more permanent nature and she was unwilling to even entertain the mere possibility. But then she leaned in one last time regardlessly and whispered her own "I love you."

* * *

…

Clangs of metal against metal could be heard even from a mile away.

Bellamy and Kane sat on their horses, high up on a hill, from where they had a fantastic view of the mining site. Aurora's residence, her office building, was a lonely tower that loomed large into the sky, as if it, too, was an Eternal Weapon, stabbing the clouds above. Underneath it the mine unfolded in a meandering band of hills and craters, some so deep it was hard to see anything down there other than a dull sheen. It looked like a rendition of the moon right there on earth, except this moon had been torn into with the brute force of large hammers and drills.

To Bellamy, all this was nothing new, nothing special. Rather, the opposite was true, it was so terribly familiar that he had to fight the childish urge to run away. But Marcus Kane was fascinated. Bellamy could see it so clearly in the man's features that he almost felt something akin to sympathy for him.

The site _was_ mesmerizing, and objectively beautiful in its own way. The giant crater-like opening leading deep into the rock, baring a maze of intricately woven silvery lines, blazing so bright that they illuminated the whole area with a strange surreal light. Big machines were working to mine the precious material day and night, manned by a surprisingly small crew. Most personnel, then, was used to guard the perimeter fence around it. Soldiers, some of them with weapons as gleaming as the source they were protecting.

"Fascinating," it escaped Kane. "Never thought I'd see something like that in my life." He chuckled, his excitement barely contained, and he looked over to Bellamy, who made a face at him, rolling his eyes.

"Are you ready?" he asked, calm and without much inflection, and Kane sighed but nodded.

"Ready as can be." He patted the bag he had strapped to the side of his horse. "I got the magic, you take care of the inside distraction, Clarke deals with the outside, and I do the rest. Just give me an hour before you all leave. Hopefully, by then I'll be on my way too."

"That's the plan." Bellamy looked at him stonily. "Don't try to play us."

Marcus put on a pretend offended expression. "I'm almost hurt by your distrust, but if I'm being honest, I don't blame you." He smiled mildly. "Come on, son, let's do this."

Bellamy clenched his jaw muscles, weirdly annoyed by Kane's use of the word "son," but he forced himself to rein in that feeling and focus ahead.

"Leave the talking to me," he ordered the older man, who nodded at him. They exchanged a last glance, then they dug their heels into their horses' flanks, galloping straight toward the entrance to the mining site.

* * *

…

Bellamy was the first to dismount his horse when they eventually arrived at the gigantic entrance area to the mine. A large metal gate lay in front of them, manned by at least twenty armed soldiers, probably more in a small hut right behind it.

Marcus swallowed hard, unsure of what to expect. In all his plans he had always just kind of glossed over the part where he would actually have to get into the site first, but now there was no going back anymore, only going forward, and he forced himself to just concentrate on what Blake was doing and follow his lead.

A guard stepped in front of them immediately, stopping them from going any further. Kane saw the man's weapon, then noticed the way Bellamy casually let his bandage peek out from under his sleeve, as if showing the other man that they were the same, members of a highly elusive club, and in a way they were.

"I'm here to see the Captain," Bellamy announced before the guard could even say a word, and there was a moment of awkward silence before the other man finally asked, "Is she expecting you?"

Bellamy smirked, his reaction confusing Marcus. But when Bellamy spoke next, he understood.

"You're new, soldier?"

"Sir?"

Blake's cocky expression strangely pleased Marcus. This was the kind of entrance he had envisioned for them.

"Your Captain?" he asked in a mocking tone. "That's my mother; and yes, she's expecting me. Do you need to go ask her first, or could there possibly be someone here that's been with the guard for a little longer than you?"

"Apologies, sir. I… uh," the poor man stammered, looking from Bellamy to Kane, who was winking at him. Then he waved over to the hut, and another, older looking guard poked his head out, seeming annoyed.

"What?!"

"Um… this one claims to be the Captain's son?"

The other guard glared over at them, shielding his eyes against the light. Bellamy looked over to him, bored and aloof. He gave a mild wave of his hand.

The man scowled, walking toward them. When he had gotten close enough, his whole posture immediately changed. Tension flooded through his body, making him stand up straight, and he saluted Bellamy quickly and awkwardly.

"Sir, I… we didn't know you were coming. My apologies. Of course you're good to go in, but... I'm afraid your companion will still need an ID."

Bellamy rolled his eyes in a show of utter annoyance. "He's with me. Is that not enough?"

"Sir, I'm really sorry..." The older guard looked really uncomfortable.

"Fine. Go ask Aurora, if you must. This man is someone I have been ordered to get here. By the Captain, personally," he added, glaring at the guards, who had both flinched at hearing someone refer to the Captain by her first name.

Bellamy offhandedly waved at Kane. "So, how does this work, do we need to wait here till you checked? Do we need an escort up to her office, does someone need to announce us first?" His tone was bordering hard on condescending, but the soldiers didn't seem to notice, or maybe they were simply used to it. They did look positively intimidated, however, and unsure of how to proceed. Clearly, there was a protocol, and clearly, they didn't feel like they could make Bellamy adhere to it. Marcus almost felt sorry for them.

"Sir, I'm sure it'll be fine if you just go straight up to her."

Bellamy raised his eyebrows at them, then started to move past them.

"Uh, one more thing, sir?"

The guard got a dark glare in reply.

"You'll have to leave your weapon out here. I'm... sorry." The poor man's voice was barely above a whisper. But Bellamy merely waved him off, opening his jacket wide, turning around.

"I didn't bring it," he said. "You're free to search me…"

"That won't be necessary," the older of the two guards was quick to reply, forcing a smile, then they both made room for Bellamy and Kane, nodding to their comrades to let the two visitors pass.

They were really in. Kane clicked his tongue, marveling at the reality of it. The core was so close. It was almost a shame that he had to destroy it all… He patted the heavy bag by his side again, relieved that the poor soldiers hadn't dared search him, either. If only they knew how they would have to pay for that. He exchanged a brief glance with Bellamy, following the kid until they had reached a steep incline and Bellamy pointed to the left, where a narrow path led down into the darkness.

"This is where we say goodbye for now, then?" Kane asked, and the kid nodded.

"You better hurry. I don't know for how long I can keep Aurora away from her windows."

"I'll be as quick as a gazelle." Kane chuckled, but Bellamy didn't reciprocate it. With a sigh, Kane patted his shoulder. "Almost over," he said, then, "Good luck."

He didn't wait to see Bellamy climb up to the tower, instead rushing down into the darkness quickly. He had lied a little about how much time he would have to prevent anyone from coming with him. It would be a quick job. All he needed to do was pour the liquid straight in, and then leave. But first, since no one would be there to watch him, he would quickly take a tiny amount of the shiny metal and smuggle it out. Wouldn't hurt anyone, would it? Nobody had to know...


	35. So it begins

_Hi there. A quick note to anyone getting a notification for this story: I decided to update it after going over it for Ao3 and my original version of this. One of the editing results is a few different chapter breaks so there'll now be a bit more. I put a lot of work into brushing this up before I'll begin posting a follow up fic of sorts soon._

( _That will have Bellarke, btw, but also shift focus a bit to include other characters more, and since it'll have a more extensive storyline for the often unpopular Finn, I won't hold my breath anyone will care to read it, but since the raw version is almost done, I thought I'd still post it. It'll be called **Electrum** and I will probably begin posting it come December.)_

* * *

.. _._

Bellamy had to walk up a pretty steep path to get up to the tower. From up there he had a stunning view right across the entire mining site, with the gigantic machines moving down below making an ominous noise, the sheen of the metal even brighter than it had been from up the hill. He clenched his jaw involuntarily, memories threatening to overwhelm him, memories he hadn't wanted to ever revisit. One in particular stood out, because it had happened somewhere not too far from where he now stood, getting ready to face his demons.

 _Remember, I'm right there with you_ , Clarke said in his head, but he had a hard time concentrating as another voice filled his mind, straight out of the past, low and without emotion.

...

"I should just throw you down there. See? Where it's the brightest? It's actually fluid, we are mining around it, because even our best men don't know how to tamper the metal in its liquid form, but… I have plans for this, son, for _you_. I want you to be the personification of my power, more than just an Eternal, I want you to be _the_ Eternal. I'm thinking… if the cutting doesn't do it, we'll try a bath…"

How old had he been? 14 perhaps. All he remembered were those words, spoken so casually, and the terror building up inside of him.

...

 _Bellamy?_ Clarke sounded worried, but he could only stare at the small pond-like surface down below.

 _Bell. Come back._

He wondered what it would have felt like. The fall. The touchdown. The metal washing over him, filling his lungs.

 _Come back. Come. Back. Bellamy._

 _Clarke?_ He inhaled sharply, focusing on her presence, obviously puzzled and a little concerned.

 _Are you alright?_

He wiped over his temple briefly, nodding as if she could see him. Then, without explanation for his short episode, he simply said, _Kane is on his way down. You should start approaching. And Clarke: Be careful._

 _I will. And you?_

Bellamy bit down hard, feeling a heaviness weigh him down that made him wish he and Kane could have switched places. _And I have a meeting with the devil now, I believe._

 _I'll be right there with you._

He had to smile at feeling Clarke's affection, her worry. It was still a bit strange to not be completely alone, even if he seemingly was. She was really there. And that his mother wouldn't be able to tell made it even better.

* * *

…

The foyer to the large office building was huge and wide, and it blinded him with its inlays of Eternal metal. He felt a weird sensation in his arm, almost as if the limb knew its origin lay somewhere here.

"Can I help you?" A slightly brutish looking man in a black furry coat and a breastplate made from Eternal metal came his way, inclining his head to take him in. There was something familiar about him.

Bellamy felt his neck prickle uncomfortably.

"I'm looking for the Captain."

"Well," the man extended a hand as if he had suddenly realized something. "Bellamy Blake, you're the Captain's son. - Dare I say you don't much look like her, except for a certain darkness in your features." The man smiled and Bellamy couldn't help but glare. Of course the people here all knew him.

"It's the hair," he stated drily, only half joking.

To his surprise, the man chuckled. "Indeed, that's it, I believe. - Come follow me. She'll be pleased to see you."

He highly doubted that, but he wasn't going to argue. All he hoped was to find his mother in her usual spot, surrounded by her trusty council, staring out the floor length windows down into the mining site, while discussing strategies of war and whatever the hell else interested her these days.

When his nameless companion guided him up a few flights of stairs, quiet and quick, Bellamy had to fight the urge to try and make small talk.

"There we are," the man suddenly said, "as I'm sure you remember."

Bellamy nodded. "Of course."

The man knocked on the wide door, just a tap of his hand, really, and Bellamy tensed as they waited, until an all too familiar voice boomed, "In."

Still not a woman of many words, he noticed. It was probably not the only thing that hadn't changed. And indeed he was right. When the man opened the door, Bellamy braced himself, then peeked inside, seeing his mother sitting at a large desk, looking exactly like the last time he had seen her, and he took a shuddering breath. Maybe there were a few more lines around her eyes...

He suddenly remembered an old song, a legend, and for the first time since hearing it, he had to wonder whether it was actually true what it said: that proximity to Eternal metal could decelerate the aging process.

 _What? Does that mean in ten or twenty years people will wonder how this middle aged woman scored herself such a dashing young man?_

He had to stifle a laugh at Clarke's words and his mother's brow momentarily furrowed as if she had noticed something. He focused back on Clarke briefly to stay calm and not let Aurora get to him yet.

 _They'd only ever wonder why you'd put up with someone like me…_

"Bellamy." His mother slowly extricated herself from her heavy chair and made a few steps toward her son, nodding to the ten or so people in the room with her. Bellamy glared at them all, then focused on his mother.

"To be quite honest I had pegged you for dead or, excuse my assumptions, deserted."

Bellamy stared at her stoically. "Of course you'd think that. You never did think very highly of me, did you? Then again, once bitten, twice shy? Maybe my father's departure made you suspicious of me as well. Like father, like son?"

Aurora bristled but tried to control her unbidden emotions quickly, scoffing lightly. "Please. Let's not open old wounds. I'm glad to see you whole." And to Bellamy's utter shock and horror she stretched out her arms and gave him an unwanted hug. When she pulled away again, leaving Bellamy standing frozen and uncomfortable, she addressed the other man that had come inside with him.

"Nyko, I don't think you've met my son… Bellamy, this is Nyko. He's our doctor on site, and a very trusted friend."

The man did not seem to be too comfortable with the descriptors she had used and he awkwardly looked at Bellamy, carefully putting his arms behind his back. Bellamy shot him a curious glance that the man reciprocated, but Aurora seemed unaware.

"He's been with me for..." She looked from her son to Nyko, a slight frown and a smile on her face. Bellamy had to swallow, she looked almost like the person she had once been, roughly two decades ago. "For how long now, Nyko?"

"A year, Captain."

His mother nodded, "Right. Funny how time flies. Yet a year is nothing in the grand scheme of things. Nyko here - just like your dear father - is not a pure Silveren, but," she held up a finger triumphantly, and Bellamy felt a weird heat creep up his spine. She had never so casually, so openly acknowledged his father's origins. "His heart is purer than anyone else's."

Bellamy looked at her with a pretend bored expression, but deep down he wondered why exactly she was even telling him that. She hadn't seen her son in years, yet this was what she decided to talk about? Not even asking him questions?

"See, we intercepted his group of travelers when they were doing a little trip from coast to coast, from Golden lands into our territories. Needless to say we interrogated them, questioned them. Turns out that the Golden have been trying to smuggle Eternal metal back across the continent, have you by any chance heard about that while you were gone? No?" She chuckled at Bellamy's lost expression. "Well, it's a trade of sorts, if you will. Dear Nyko here was quickly recruited for the just cause, however. In fact, his loyalties didn't really lie with the Golden to begin with, he's of forester descent. I'm sure your sister would love that little fact. As it is, I just decided to send him after her and you, maybe to help you complete your mission... But now here you are, and I take it he doesn't need to go anymore?"

Bellamy sniffed, shaking his head finally. Nyko was a wildcard. There was no knowing what his true motives were, why and how a forester had ended up dealing with Golden traders, then made it all the way into the Silveren captain's inner circle. Was he, perhaps, playing Aurora? Or was he being sincere?

 _At least you have her attention. Are they away from the windows?_

Clarke's sudden appearance in his head jolted him back to what really mattered right then and he was grateful for that. His mind was all over the place. Not very good for a trained soldier.

 _Yeah. They're all focused on_ her.

Because they were all scared of her...

To his mother he said, "No, he doesn't. I brought the contact." His mother's eyes widened, but Bellamy shook his head lightly, a small smirk appearing on his face. "Not like you think. Actually, I'm only here to warn you. We are going to try and destroy the sources of Eternal metal."

 _You sure that's the right approach?_ Clarke sounded worried, but he reassured her.

 _Trust me, I know her. She'll not believe that her own son could actually do something like that. Not until she sees it._

Sure enough, his mother scoffed, looking at her council with amusement, then back at Bellamy as if he had made a hilarious joke. "Destroy them? And how exactly do you intend to do that?"

His smile turned cockier. "Oh, we've found a way. It'll start here. Tell your people to leave now and you all might have a chance to live."

Someone in the back was signaling to Aurora. Should they try and capture and restrain her son? But the Captain shook her head and waved an arm dismissively, still not quite believing that her son was telling the truth, that he could mean danger to her, to the Silveren people. She smiled mildly, convinced she knew what this was.

"And how many of you are there, huh? Versus how many of us?"

"Doesn't matter." Bellamy was quick to dismiss her, but Aurora wasn't going to back down so quickly.

"Are you working for the Golden now, son? Is that it? Are the rumors true after all? That you bonded with one of them? That you turned into one of them?"

"I will never be one of them." He paused, his gaze hard and unrelenting. "But neither will I be one of you." He waved at all the men and women in the room, with their dark uniforms and their shiny silvery breastplates. "Because I'm both." He glared at his mother. "Since you seem to have finally embraced the fact that part of your family is not pure Silveren, maybe you're ready to finally accept that, too. Your stupid _symbol_ is, in fact, just a symbol of change. We want to end this godforsaken war and whatever you do, it can't stop us."

Aurora's face had turned dark and angry as she interrupted him now, but Bellamy raised his chin as he listened, standing as tall as he could.

"Do you honestly believe destroying the sources will end the war? You're naive to think that, son. What it _will_ mean is simply this: you'll rid us of our one advantage over the enemy with their bonds and freaks. They'll have an easy time invading our homes and rape our women and kill our children, kill everyone."

Bellamy rolled his eyes, making a face, then shaking his head. His hands in fists, he tried to stay calm, but it was hard. Maybe his mother did have a point. There was no knowing whether the Golden wouldn't just use this to their advantage, but even in that case…

 _Bellamy._

 _I know..._ Now was not the time for such doubts.

"That almost seems better than what we have now, _mom_." He spat out the last word with so much contempt and hatred that the captain actually looked a bit taken aback.

"Better?!" She hissed. "How is that better?!"

"Do you know why these people even follow you anymore? Not because they believe in anything you tell them, or make them do. It's because they're freaking terrified! Of what you could do to their families, their children if they didn't obey. Someone who doesn't hesitate to put his _own_ family through the worst pain can only be expected to do the same to people less close to them."

"What are you even talking about?" Aurora shook her head, walking back over to her desk, and for a second Bellamy was worried she might look out the window after all and spot Kane in the middle of his task, but the moment passed, and his mother remained focused on what was going on right in front of her.

Her crew was growing more and more uneasy. Bellamy could tell that they were eager to be dismissed, to be gone, but Aurora had always been fond of an audience.

"What am I talking about?" Bellamy chuckled, but it was the most distraught sound in the room.

 _Remember who you are now, Bellamy. You're not that boy anymore. You're with me_ …

He took a deep breath, forcing himself yet again to focus on Clarke's presence, so as not to completely lose his mind.

"You are an abuser yourself, Aurora. There are stories about you…"

"That's enough."

But he ignored her interruption, grimacing. "And while I can't attest to their truth, I can at least suspect that it _is_ all true, judging from what you did to _me_."

"I made you strong! I made you what you are today!" She glared at him with fire in her eyes, hands at her sides turning into fists.

Bellamy shook his head, scoffing. "I am what I am _despite_ what you did, not because of it. You freaking sliced me open. You threatened to throw me down the mine to make me a beacon of your power. - You cut into your own people, continuing what others have started before you without even questioning whether it's right or not. Hundreds of people with _this_..." He suddenly pulled up his arm, making a few people gasp in a panic, but they grew slightly calmer when all they saw was a bandage, not a weapon.

"I said, enough!" Aurora was bristling, barely holding onto herself. "Nyko, kindly remove my son from the room. I do believe his mission might have affected him more than we thought and a little rest-"

As Nyko's arms came up to grab Bellamy, he swiftly stepped aside, shaking the other man off. "I don't need to rest," he hissed. "But I _will_ leave. If you want to live," he turned to look at the members of the council, then at Nyko, giving the man a pointed stare, noting a sense of dawning understanding in his eyes. "You'll better do the same."

And with that, he turned on his heels and briskly walked out of the room. He knew his mother. She was not the type to come running after any of her children, certainly not when she had been threatened by them with what she surely believed to be nothing but a coy. No, she would not move from her office unless someone made her.

He was out the door without anyone coming after him, though, not even her guards, or her trusted council members, which was in and of itself already a sign that he had gotten through to some of Aurora's people if not to her, which was probably more than his mother would have liked to admit. With a last glance back in her direction, he saw Nyko turn to face her, too.

"I'm sorry, Captain, let me try and sort this out," he said, then quickly walked out after Bellamy, leaving Aurora completely dumbfounded and out of sorts.

Nyko reached Bellamy within seconds, and they both eyed each other warily for a moment, Bellamy ready to strike, when the forester suddenly whispered something to him.

"You're with Marcus Kane." It wasn't a question, it was a realization, and Bellamy stared at the other man in shock. How did those two know each other?

* * *

…

Clarke held her breath as Bellamy dealt with his mother, trying to not give her room to get to him. She was glad he seemed to be doing okay there, because she needed all her attention, all her focus for her own task: distracting and fighting off the guards of the mining site to assure no one came for Marcus Kane, and to clear the way for his and Bellamy's escape.

Getting the soldiers to pay attention to them had been easy enough, but dealing with the ensuing attack proved to be a challenge. There seemed to be ever more people coming out after them, and Clarke and the others had quickly split up to take them on from all sides.

When she encountered the first one of them, who swiftly went for his weapon, she felt a sudden panic seize her momentarily, that old familiar feeling that had never completely left her ever since she had seen that Eternal kill her father. This man's weapon was just as blazingly bright, his stance so confident, and then he lunged for her, half flying toward her. For a split second she believed everything was over, that she couldn't ever fight something like this, and what had she been thinking? But then she suddenly remembered that surge of confidence Bellamy had felt when he had fought. She remembered him helping her, coming to her aid, and she knew she was not that same person anymore she had once been, that scared girl.

She was a fighter now, she could take on that attacker; so she grabbed the dagger Octavia had given her and when her fingers clasped the cool handle in an iron grip, she raced toward the man. Before he could even touch her, she ducked down and stabbed him first in the leg, making him stumble, then came up on top of him, finishing her garish job, stabbing him again and again until she was certain he was dead, until her mind finally caught up with her and she let go.

But it wasn't over yet. This was only the beginning.

…

She was far away from Bellamy, fighting against what seemed to be way too many guards, too many Eternals among them, and she only had one of Octavia's daggers. She had lost sight of the younger Blake minutes ago, too focused on her own battle, and at the same time she saw images of Bellamy's experiences flicker by, too. Their minds were engaged in a constant flow of information, and Clarke was half surprised that she could keep track of what was going on. Strangely, Bellamy's fighting experience seemed to be helping her and she found herself ducking when something told her to, when _he_ told her to, while he rushed to meet them.

It was all happening, their plan was unfolding. She felt the rush, the anticipation, the fear, it was all there, hers, his...

She heard Bellamy talk to some guards, urging the confused men to leave with him, offering them a cure for the scars on their arms. Some of them did race away, believing him that something was going down, just not believing that he was the good party in all of it, and they fled to the perceived safety of their Captain's tower. Others exchanged worried glances and ran with him, off, away from the site.

Clarke could almost see them coming. Almost. But she was still too preoccupied. An attacker came at her, and she swiftly bent down to evade him, ducking under, then coming up behind him, plunging her dagger into the side of his neck. Her breaths came fast, her nostrils flaring, and she felt Raven by her side, nodding to her as they did their grim work. They had lost sight of Octavia, Lincoln and her mom, and Clarke tried hard not to worry. She didn't even know whether Abby had really followed Kane or not.

Suddenly, someone lunged at them both, making Raven fall and lose her own weapon, and the guard who had done it threw himself on her, burying her under his weight, dagger held against her throat.

"You're pretty," he snarled, spit flying from his mouth. "Too bad I'll have to cut you both open. Maybe when this is done, I can go back and find your bod—"

He looked up, startled, his gaze wandering from a shocked Raven to Clarke, who stared at him coldly, before shoving him off her friend as he was grabbing his throat, looking down at his hands, at the blood spurting out of him.

"Come on," Clarke yelled at Raven, extending a hand to pull her up, and the girl looked at her wide-eyed and panting heavily.

"Thank you..."

Clarke nodded briefly, but her attention was on the battle going on around them. Further away, Finn was engaged in combat, the ground already littered with bodies as he chopped at his attackers. As expected, he had drawn the most attention, and the guards, some of them Eternals, too, most of them wearing shiny breastplates, were almost too many to take on.

"We need to help him," Clarke hissed, her worry almost as great as Raven's, who suddenly stood frozen, unable to move.

"Raven!" Clarke yelled, shooting her a glance, then fighting off the next person, trying to move forward toward Finn. "Snap out of it! He needs us!"

"He's going to die..." Raven breathed, her face falling as she stared vacantly over to Clarke. "We're all going to—"

With a sudden movement, Clarke rushed over to her and pulled her with her and away just in time before a sword would have connected with the girl's head. Raven gasped, but finally jolted out of her stupor. Clarke took care of the attacker with one lithe turn and stab, then she cupped her friend's face briefly, staring hard at her.

"You're a soldier Raven, you've probably seen worse—"

"No. Never like this, our own people... there are just so many, and we, we're not enough..."

Clarke implored her. "We don't have time for this! Pull yourself together! If Finn dies, it won't be because of us being in the minority, it will be because of this, of us not coming to his aid!"

She knew she was being harsh, but she had to be, and thankfully, it finally worked.

Just then, out of the commotion's midst, Bellamy raced toward them.


	36. Explosion

…

The explosion came with an earsplitting crushing noise, so loud, so vast, that Clarke felt her ears start ringing before the sound had even completely reached them. The flames, the smoke went up high, for what seemed like miles, into the sky. Up up, and farther up, illluminating and darkening the world around them at the same time.

"Oh my gosh," it escaped Raven, and it was Clarke's turn to freeze. She stared up at the fire, so all encompassing, so devastating, until she felt the other girl tug at her arm.

"We gotta run."

"Bellamy was right there. Where did he go? I need to-"

"We gotta leave," Raven urged, interrupting her. Out of the corner of her eye, Clarke suddenly saw her mom reappear, saw Finn half stumble toward them. "Clarke. Now. Bellamy will catch up."

"But…" She didn't want to leave without him; and where were Octavia and Lincoln?

 _They're not with you?_

She took a deep breath when she felt him back with her.

 _I haven't seen them in a while. Bellamy..._ She tried looking for him, but couldn't see much through the wafts of smoke and debris clouding everything around them.

 _Go, Clarke. Go with Raven. I'll come find you, but I have to find O first. If she ran into the tower..._

But he didn't have to explain. As much as Clarke wanted to argue and implore him to come with her, their bond made it almost impossible. She understood him too well. He couldn't go without his sister. So she bit down hard, and forced herself to let it go.

 _Be careful._

 _You too..._

She swallowed to get the lump out of her throat. _Because_ I _need you too..._

 _I know, and I need you. - I'll meet you soon, princess. There's a small settlement not too far from here, we can make it by nightfall if we all go now. Raven knows where..._

 _Will you-_

 _I'll meet you there._

She couldn't hold back her tears anymore. Staring up at the fire in the sky one last time, blazing and raw, piercing the clouds like a giant sword, she swallowed down her fear, her urge to stay and wait, and signaled to the others. Abby had reached them by then, panting and grimy from her own fights, while Finn was still stumbling on toward them, trying to get away from the fire, but also still fighting off the last desperate disbelieving guards that wouldn't let up, not even in the eye of imminent defeat from a more powerful source.

"Hurry!" Clarke yelled over to him, then looked at her mom, desperately. "Fast."

Then they all began to run.

* * *

…

Kane grinned to himself. It all had gone according to plan - well, except the part where he had filled his bag with metal and had accidentally already dropped the bottle with the liquid, making it spill out and onto the Eternal metal. He had barely gotten half the amount that he had wanted, but it was as good as it was going to get. So he packed up quickly and made a run for it.

There were a few soldiers on guard duty getting too close, and he feared they would cut his escape short, but then he suddenly saw unexpected help magically appear in front of him when Nyko greeted him, staring down at him from the ladder he was about to climb up.

"Nyko, old friend," he said by way of greeting as the other man gave him a hand, lifting him the last bit up, then turning around to call out to the fast approaching guards.

"There's been an incident, the core is unstable. The captain ordered us all to leave, now! The situation is out of control."

"But sir," one of them tried to argue, frowning uncertainly, and Marcus watched as Nyko stared him down.

"Now! If you want to live, you run."

And suddenly, Marcus was free to go.

"My friend," he said, panting, "what are you doing here?"

"Good to see you, too," Nyko drily replied, giving him a mild half smile. "I thought you had gone rogue with one of our loads there for a bit."

Kane grimaced. " _Our_ loads?"

Nyko merely stared at him, and he clenched his teeth, forcing himself to focus on the more imminent problems first.

"We really got to get the hell out of here," he hissed, and the other man nodded, thankfully not arguing for the time being.

...

They galloped alongside each other for a while, almost too out of breath to talk. Marcus knew that Nyko was trading lost Eternal weapons, giving them to the highest bidder on either side. The trek his hired hands went on was almost legendary. Coast to coast, spanning the whole continent, Silveren territories, Neutral Zone, and Golden lands. Who better to be in charge of that than a man of the forest?

"I believe you just set out to destroy my half of the business, Marcus." Nyko eventually hissed, not looking very pleased. "I thought we had an understanding-"

"Yeah, well," Kane interrupted him, "We also had an understanding regarding which side we'd be on in this war…"

"You're fooling yourself if you ever thought it was any other side but our own. I'm only fighting for myself, for _my_ people. Besides," he raised an eyebrow. "I merely did what I had to to escape torture. You, on the other hand-"

"I'm working on destroying the one Silveren advantage; I'd say it's pretty clear which side I'm on." Marcus glared at him.

But Nyko raised an eyebrow at him. "Working together with the Silveren Captain's son? I just met him. Nice enough kid... - But Marcus. You're playing everyone again, aren't you? I only hope the poor fool knows not to trust you…"

Kane merely smirked in return, then he reined in his horse, pointing toward a silhouette on the horizon.

"There," he said. Let's follow them for now. My job is not quite done yet, and you, my friend, might like what I have in store. First we destroy the Silveren advantage, then it'll be the Golden bonds, and soon, it'll be just us..."

Nyko raised an eyebrow at him, huffing. "After you," he eventually grumbled, waving a hand as if out of courtesy. With a grin at him, Marcus dug his heels into his horse's flanks, and off he sped, soon just another silhouette against the horizon.

* * *

...

Bellamy had found himself racing against the flames before he could finally breathe a little easier again as the plume of fire and ashes slowly fell away. Whatever Kane had done, the reaction had definitely been accelerated, the explosion happening before the hour was up.

He was just glad that Clarke was on her way out with Raven. Now he had to find Octavia and he tried not to panic as the fire grew closer to Aurora's tower. She had to be in there, his sister had to have snuck away from the battle to get to her, there was no other way. He shouldn't have ever let her out of his sight. He clenched his jaw in agitation.

 _It'll be okay._

 _I hope you're right..._

* * *

 _..._

Octavia found her where Bellamy had left her behind, still in her office, looking out over the disaster happening down below.

Aurora Blake stood lost in time, unable to comprehend what had just happened, and didn't even turn when her door opened, and her daughter walked in. She hadn't cared when the council members had urged her to leave, she hadn't cared when they had left her, shooting awkward glances her way. She hadn't cared about anything anymore, just that blazing growing fire, that pillar of smoke and flames rising up higher than her tower.

Octavia expelled a shuddering breath, watching the woman for a long moment. This was her mother, the woman that had never wanted to see her, had forced Bellamy to take care of her if he wanted her to live, and thanks to her brother she was alive now, alive and breathing, and finally ready to do her part.

"Hello, mom," she breathed, and for a split second she thought she saw a shiver go through Aurora upon hearing her.

She was the Captain of the Silveren, a strong, tall woman, formidable, yet in this moment, Aurora Blake was beginning to crumble in on herself. Once, she had been a kind person, with dreams and hopes like everyone else. Then love had taken her down a dark road, a road she didn't have the strength to leave until much later, when it was already too late, when her soul had already been crushed.

A child, something good had come of her wrong decisions, of her relationship with a heartless brutal man. She had kept the baby despite the threats, had held onto him with the fierce love of a mother. She had wanted to raise him to be a better person, a gentle, caring man. She had worked so hard for it. Then his father had returned for one last time, a Golden soldier on his way to war, coming through their town to claim what he thought was his, and he had destroyed even that last piece of good.

When another child had been the result of that too long short nightmare, Aurora's plans had changed. She was no longer trying to see the good in anything, to turn something dark into something better. No, she didn't want to be reminded of the worst moment in her life, and she got rid of the child, turning the other one into what would hurt his father the most: a weapon, a threat, someone to help her destroy the man's whole people, his everything, and she had trained hard to do her part, had risen higher and higher through the ranks, excelling in any fight with her ruthlessness, until she had replaced the old Captain.

"It was all planned," she was muttering now. "I don't… I don't understand. It wasn't supposed to happen like that…"

"Oh, it was," Octavia replied, though of course Aurora wasn't actually talking to her. Now, though, she suddenly did turn around and Octavia took a step back when she saw the almost warm smile on the woman's face.

"Octavia…"

She scoffed. "You actually know my name." She was only a little surprised. Her mother had never fooled her. She had always known that Aurora had kept taps on her daughter, just like she had always kept taps on her son.

"Of course."

"Well, then I'm sure you'll be glad to hear that I am here to end your despair now. Over having to see me, having to see your grand plan of winning this war fail."

Octavia inhaled deeply, taking her sword in a hard grip, slowly walking toward her mother, then breaking into a run. When she had been younger, she had often dreamed of what she would do when she met her mom, what questions she would ask.

Why did you do it? Why did you have me if you hated me so much? Why did you turn Bellamy into an Eternal? Why couldn't you have given us both away to someone who would have loved us despite what our father did. Why…

She was past that stage. Deep down she knew that once, Aurora had deserved sympathy, maybe even pity. But those times were gone, too, and now it was her turn to pay for what she had done. It was time to—

...

"O! No!"

She whirled around to see Bellamy race toward her, his face showing so much pain and anguish that hers scrunched up in sympathy, her own pain growing too strong, too much to bear, and she faltered briefly, before tensing again.

"She has to pay…"

Bellamy lowered his arms, the Old One dangling from his grip as he shook his head. "Not like this, O."

"What she did to you! To me…"

Aurora was strangely quiet through all of it, not moving to protect herself, not saying anything, her face a blank mask as her gaze was locked on her eldest child.

Bellamy shot her a glance, but quickly focused back on his sister, trying to save her, ignoring the shadow of their parents, both of them.

"Let's go. The tower is gonna go up in flames soon. I found Lincoln downstairs, he's got the horses. We still have time, but we need to go now."

"Not before she's gotten what she deserves. She needs to suffer—"

"O, stop! It's over, okay? She is getting what she deserves. Did you look at her?! She's not going anywhere. But if you kill her now, with your own hands, you will go down that same dark road and I'm not gonna let you. It's always been you and me, O. Come with me. Lincoln is waiting, the others… We have people to look out for now, it's not just us anymore. We can do better than her, we already have. Don't destroy that, don't destroy yourself. Just come with me."

He could see her falter, could see a shiver rake her thin frame, but she was still clinging to her sword.

"You should go." Aurora's voice sounded calm, almost disembodied, and they both glanced at her. That strange smile was back on her face, as she took a step toward the long row of windows that showed the inferno outside. "The fire will probably reach the outer layers of the metal soon. There's a vein leading right up into the ground floor of the building. You don't want to be around for when that happens…"

Bellamy swallowed, making himself say, "You can still leave, too."

But she shook her head, averting her gaze again, turning to face the flames. Bellamy expected her to say something else, but when she didn't, he quickly rushed toward Octavia and grabbed her by the arm, looking her in the eyes. Her lower lip was wobbling, and suddenly he saw her five or six or ten year old self again that had cried because her mother was a monster, and he pulled her in for a brief hug, his heart in a vise, before making her go with him, not letting go of her arm until she broke into a run with him, both of them headed toward the exit, down the stairs, down down down, without even so much as a last look at their mother.

 _It's going to be okay,_ Clarke whispered inside his head and he hoped she was right, he so hoped she was right because he felt like he was about to break any moment, and he knew he couldn't. He needed her to help him, needed her to believe for the both of them.

* * *

…

Outside, Lincoln was waiting for them, solemnly nodding toward a small group of anxious looking guards. Bellamy understood without explanation. He guided Octavia over to Lincoln, who hugged her tightly before guiding her to her horse while her brother went to the few strangers.

"You gotta run. Fast. This was only the first explosion," he explained, and one of the men, a fellow Eternal, stepped forward, eyeing him warily.

"The Captain?"

"She isn't coming… Listen, you can come with us." He pointed to the man's arm. "There's a cure for this we've been working on, something we want to make accessible for everyone." He worked to take his weapon off his arm, showing the guard the spot on his wrist where Kane had poured his concoction. The usual sheen was a little duller there, and the man's eyes widened.

Bellamy could see it work in him as he looked up to squint at him, gauging his sincerity.

"Alright," he said. "You lead the way, Captain son."

Bellamy flinched at the denomination, but didn't say anything and nodded. "Let's go then."

...

And as the second explosion Aurora had foreseen eventually happened, they were already out in the open, racing against time, toward where dusk was starting to envelope the world.

 _We're on our way, Clarke._

 _Just come back to me…_

He sighed as he felt Clarke, and her being there kept him going when his mind was starting to get too exhausted to function. The thought of his mother dying in the flames threatening to surface and overwhelm him. But he had to pull himself together, had to keep going, because he had responsibilities, not just Clarke and Octavia, or his friends, but also the few men that had decided to follow him. He saw them ride along, shocked and shaken, wide eyed and in disbelief. They all had been riding for a while, when they finally saw two figures on horseback approach and Bellamy knew before they had even gotten close who they were. Of course.

...

Just a few minutes later he was facing the smug smile of Marcus Kane, who had triumph written all over him.

"Best fireworks I've seen in a while," he stated, grinning, turning around to the other rider, then back to Bellamy. "I believe you've met Nyko. He's an old friend…"

Bellamy raised an eyebrow, still not sure what to make of either Marcus or Nyko. Had the forester somehow been in on Kane's plan? He decided he didn't trust either of them.

 _Gotta keep a close eye on them_ , Clarke tbought, and he very much agreed.

But they had succeeded. The largest mining site was destroyed. And the best part: the Captain, who had ruled with terror and fear, was gone.

 _She was still your mother. It's okay to be sad..._

 _No._

He clenched his jaw, forcing himself to keep going, going, faster.

 _Bellamy._

He swallowed, clenching his teeth hard. _I'm not sad. She deserved so much worse. She..._

 _Was still your mother._

He closed his eyes briefly, just wishing himself to be with Clarke already. Having her in his mind was suddenly not enough anymore. He needed more.

* * *

…

She was waiting for him. When he came riding into the small settlement, not careful and quiet this time, but barging in, she was already waiting.

...

A little earlier, their little group had arrived at the settlement, just a small nest of homes, really, and greeted a few of the settlers who had been outside, minding their business, staring in awe at the dark plume hovering in the sky not far from them, when they had first walked in, carefully and guardedly.

"You here to stay?" one of them, a young man with jet black hair, had casually asked, as if he was used to people just popping up and putting down roots.

Clarke guessed that it probably did happen that way a lot, so close to the Eternal mining site. People probably started feeling unsafe soon, then left, then new ones came in, with big dreams, maybe even hopes of working in the mines, then those went on their way too, a constant shifting in the population.

To the man she had merely said, "Maybe for a night or so."

"Be careful." He pointed at the sky. "Something bad went down at the mining site, I'm sure you saw... I bet there will be a lot of military presence here soon. You might want to go elsewhere…" He gave Clarke a knowing look, making her feel slightly awkward. But he didn't have to be very perceptive to put two and two together, a group of strangers appearing right after a giant explosion couldn't be coincidence.

She mumbled a rushed "I will, thanks," and moved to catch up with her people.

He nodded at her one last time. "You might want to stay under the radar for a bit, tell your... friend to hide his arm better." He jerked his head in the direction of Clarke's group, who had walked over to a nearby boarding house by then, trying to get rooms for the night. Finn was barely hanging in there anymore, even with both Raven and Abby keeping him upright, and Clarke saw what the stranger had meant. Under his torn shirt, the blazing scar on his arm was widely visible, even from a distance.

"Thank you," she breathed, meaning it, then she raced after her friends quickly. They needed to get Finn out of the open, patch his arm up, and then they would wait, for Bellamy, Octavia, and Lincoln.

When she got to them, she exchanged a quick look with her mom, who looked at her urgently. They finally persuaded the reluctant boarding house owner they wouldn't give him any trouble and would leave come morning, and he grudgingly gave them two rooms.

Once they were up there, Raven and Abby guided a spent Finn over to the first bed, making him sit down. Clarke sighed, kneeling down in front of him for just a moment, gently cupping his face. "You'll be alright," she whispered, trying to smile as he stared past her vacantly, Raven already busy getting his bandage. Clarke swallowed as she met the other girl's gaze. Raven's lips formed a thin line.

"We made it out," she quietly breathed, returning her attention to Finn, but addressing Clarke. "Bellamy and Octavia on their way?"

Clarke nodded. "Let Abby take a look," she said. "If he lets her..."

"Yeah."

The moment felt strangely tense, and Clarke was glad when her mom interrupted them by giving Clarke a brief hug. "Go," she told her daughter. "We'll be fine here for the time being. You just make sure Bellamy and the other two find us." She gave her a warm look, a soft smile pulling her lips upward, and Clarke tried to smile back, before she nodded and walked a few steps backward then turning around to run out the door, down into the road, where it led into the settlement, right where the first few buildings stood. Then she began to walk until she could finally make out his dark form against the fire in the distance.

A silent gasp escaped her.

She knew it was him. Even from that far away and without him telling her so over the bond, she knew. How he sat on the horse, leaning down to be faster, holding onto the horse more than the reins, helming a small group of riders, not just Octavia and Lincoln.

 _Bellamy_.

She smiled until her expression grew wistful, and by the time he finally slowed to a stop just a few feet away from her, she couldn't contain her tears anymore, couldn't wait anymore, and she ran to him.

When she finally reached him, he pulled her in for a fierce hug, and she clawed at him as if needing to make sure he was really back, really whole. Eventually she pushed herself off him a little, moving her hands up to frame his face, as he rested his forehead against hers, the plumes of their breaths meeting between them before they finally kissed, so achingly longingly that Clarke's breath hitched.

 _It's over..._


	37. As things come to an end

...

When the door to their room opened, Abby wasn't paying much attention. Raven had only just managed to convince her boyfriend to let Abby have a look at him, after she had patched up the girl's injured shoulder and a few scratches first.

Abby had been frustrated with the kid, although she knew she couldn't blame him, especially since he seemed to have a bad case of post traumatic stress that had only been exacerbated by the recent events. They should have never even brought him. But for better or for worse, he was an Eternal and they had needed as many good fighters as they could get, especially highly trained ones like him.

Sometimes individual fates simply didn't or couldn't matter, or at least that's what she tried to tell herself. _Had_ to tell herself. Because if she didn't, she wouldn't be able to live with herself, and the things she had done...

She shook her head briefly, forcing herself back into the moment. Sitting hunched by Finn's side, she began inspecting his arm and his side, then got her suture kit out and with a sigh went about her work.

At least Raven had been right. Once she had volunteered to go first - despite his angry tries to keep her from doing so, and once he had seen that Abby did a good job of dealing with her injuries, he had finally surrendered and allowed her to do the same for him.

"Almost done," she eventually announced, and startled when Marcus Kane's sonorous voice suddenly piped up behind her.

"Nice work, Doctor Abby." He was smiling at her gently when she turned around, and she couldn't help but smile back, flushing a little in the dim light of the room. Kane's smile widened before he jerked his head in Finn's direction, letting her off the hook.

"If he lets me, I'll start round two of the treatment tomorrow," he suggested, "Just need to make a bit more of the 'cure' first." He air quoted, and Finn looked up to him with a blank expression, though at least he didn't immediately say no. Marcus made a move as if to pat him on the shoulder, but Raven stepped in between them before he could, arms crossed, shaking her head. He raised an eyebrow, but didn't say anything. Shrugging, he simply turned to the doorway instead, where Bellamy and Clarke had appeared. "That goes for you, too, by the way, Blake. I think there's no more reason to wait any longer after today…"

Bellamy nodded to him briefly, his stare almost as empty as Finn's.

Abby's gaze fell on Clarke beside him, holding onto her boyfriend, that strange dark Eternal, son of the Captain, bonded to her daughter, and they both looked so worn and tired that Abby's heart almost burst with sympathy.

Her daughter… Clarke was so strong, so alive. She had changed so much from the young girl Abby had left behind and she knew she couldn't pride herself for what had become of her, but she was proud of her nonetheless. Against all odds, her daughter had kept her head above water, had made the impossible work, a bond to an enemy soldier, and she had turned around the world from there.

Abby didn't know Bellamy much, or at all. But she trusted Clarke's judgment of him. Besides, she had gotten to know his sister Octavia quite well during the last few months. She had grown fond of the girl. Bellamy simply couldn't be a bad person when Clarke loved him like she so obviously did, and when he had brought his sister up to be the person that she was.

"I'll be right back with you, okay?" With a smile down on Finn, she got up slowly, walking over to Clarke. She realized how hard today had been for all of them, and why it had been so difficult for her, too: she had developed a soft spot for these kids, all of them. Octavia, Lincoln, Raven, Finn, even Bellamy, and of course Clarke, her beautiful strong Clarke… It was almost like in a way they were all her children now, and she was relieved to see them all here, with her, mostly whole if weary. Mostly alright.

When she had finally crossed the few feet of distance between herself and Clarke, she gently cupped her daughter's face, smiling at her.

"Are you okay?" she asked, and Clarke nodded with a smile, not taking her arm off Bellamy, holding him close to her side, his arm around her shoulders, and she rested against him, barely even lifting her head.

Abby smiled, then nodded, already walking back to the bed, to Finn. She knew Clarke was okay, would be okay as long as she was with Bellamy. Her daughter didn't need her mom to gather her up for a hug anymore, a bittersweet realization.

But others needed her. Right now, Finn did. She felt Clarke's gaze on her as she knelt down, Kane doing the same right next to her. Finn was backing away warily, and Clarke seemed to perk up a little at that, asking, "Everything alright?"

Abby nodded, Kane said something, too, but it was Finn's reaction she seemed to be waiting for, and her mother had to smile at that. Despite everything her daughter had been through, she still saw other people's fears, cared about their pain and worries more than her own.

Abby had seen her fight and kill earlier. She had secretly swallowed her despair over the fact that her baby girl had done such horrible things - had had to do them. She had worried that it would break Clarke eventually. But throughout their whole mission, their "adventure" as Kane had cheerily called it before, Clarke had kept her humanity, her compassion. She wasn't lost. She would be alright.

...

When Finn finally nodded ever so slightly, Clarke smiled at him, allowing herself to slump even more against Bellamy. "If you want me to take over for her," she started, indicating her mother, but he shook his head. He looked paler than usual, Raven holding onto him as if to make sure he wasn't going to pass out and crash onto the floor, but his voice was firm when he replied, "I'm fine. Thanks, though…"

Clarke wanted to believe him, because she felt like she was about to keel over herself. It had all been so much...

"Okay," she therefore quietly whispered, then, in a sudden non-sequitur, "I think I'm ready for some rest. Any volunteers for first shift?"

They all exchanged glances, so very exhausted, so weary and tired. But eventually, Lincoln stepped forward.

"I'll do it. You all need to rest."

"Happy to keep you company," a dark man that Clarke hadn't noticed before suddenly said as he was coming up from behind, and they all frowned at him, wary, until Kane stood up, patting Abby's shoulder gently as he did.

"No need to worry, my friends. Meet my old friend Nyko. I trust him with my life, but I could see why you wouldn't." He smirked over at Bellamy at that. "So, why don't I go with them, too."

Bellamy squinted at him cautiously, Clarke lightly tugging his arm, and Marcus scoffed. "I see, you still don't trust _me_ , either, not even after what we just did together."

"I don't know." Bellamy cocked his head, scrutinizing him more. "Should I? I mean, what kind of connection exactly do you guys have?"

"Business, of course." Kane didn't have to think about it. He smiled brightly at the younger man, then at the others. Like so often, his gaze ended on Abby, who smiled a small smile in return before she shook it off and returned her focus back on the long gash in her patient's side. Clarke squinted at her mom, still unsure of what to make of her mother's reactions to the man.

"Right." Bellamy clenched his jaw, and Clarke gently put a hand on his chest, feeling his tension rise yet again.

 _Not tonight..._

He allowed himself to deflate a little, but he wasn't going to let Kane go for long. "You know we'll have to talk about that," he told the man, who nodded with a mild smile.

"Of course. But for now, I suggest sleep." He waved a hand, then turned around, leaving with Nyko and Lincoln in tow.

…

Bellamy stayed tense and wary until Octavia stepped closer to him, her hand resting on her sword. "I'll go with them."

The siblings exchanged a long glance, something unspoken passing between them. A worry, an assurance. One day, they would have to talk about what had happened, about everything, not just today. But right then, neither of them was ready to acknowledge it. So they just nodded at each other before Octavia finally went outside, following Lincoln and the two other men.

Once they were out of sight, once Abby was calmly talking to Raven again, and Clarke shot Finn a last glance that he didn't quite reciprocate, they eventually allowed the weariness to wash over them completely, and all they wanted was to lay down for a moment, close their eyes and get some much needed rest.

"I got this," Abby was saying, addressing Clarke, only briefly looking up. "Why don't you and Bellamy take the other room for now? Get some sleep…"

"Thanks mom," Clarke breathed, feeling as if she was already half asleep. She looked at Raven, who was clinging to her boyfriend, but with a strong, a stoic expression that made Clarke believe she would be alright, they would be alright.

"Go," the girl mouthed, smiling at her before a hiss from Finn made her focus back on him, pressing him against her a little more.

It was time to leave.

* * *

...

They would have the room to themselves until the others came to wake them, and Clarke was incredibly grateful for that. She was starved for peace and quiet and alone time with Bellamy. When she opened the door to the small room, she smiled at him.

"Nothing like Kane's mansion," she said, "but it beats sleeping outside or under rubble by a mile…" She gasped when he suddenly pulled her close before the door had even completely swung shut, and kissed her with unexpectedly passionate force.

"Bell." She chuckled, her voice sounding like she was chiding him, and he smirked at her, his features more lively again than they had been out there. With a look at him, she gently placed her hands against his chest, feeling his heartbeat accelerate. She knew what he wanted, what she wanted, but she thought that maybe they should wait and talk about what had happened first. His mom, the profound changes that were about to follow after what they had done. It had already begun.

"Let's... don't," he rasped, even though she hadn't said anything, and she bit her lip, nudging him as his hands wandered under her coat, under her shirt. "Please," he begged. A shuddering breath escaped him, making her lean in to him more, her lips finding his, her hands finding his skin as he walked them both into the room, closing the door completely with a light kick of his boot.

Their gazes met, and she could see it all, feel it. Pain, confusion, worry, hope, and wonder. He had all those conflicting emotions, about his mother, his sister, even about her. What she would think of him. What she would do now… It was too much for him to deal with at the moment so he shoved it down, away, to tackle another time, another day, and she let him. She didn't want to force him to face what she couldn't face herself yet, so instead, they allowed themselves to feel desire for each other, to feel the need to be with each other, and they used it to override everything else. Because nothing mattered in that moment but themselves.

Clarke didn't say anything, just silently agreed, shrugging out of her coat, taking off her shirt, her shoes, everything, while he stared at her half lost in some thought or other before he returned to her, placing a hand on her neck, spreading out his fingers, tracing her.

His throat was moving as he swallowed, desire and arousal creeping into his face, something akin to a flush on his pale complexion, but not quite.

She inclined her head, lower lip between her teeth as she moved to pull him closer. Unbuckling his belt, she leaned in to kiss him, until his hand stilled her movement and he took over, hoisting her up, so she could straddle him as he carried her over to one of the two narrow beds in the room, her legs slung around him tightly, and she threw her head back, suppressing a gasp.

He laid her down on the bed, her hands gripping his arms as he did, feeling his muscles flex. Her breath hitched as she saw how ready he was, but then he surprised her by kneeling down in front of her, her legs half dangling off the bed.

"What are you doing?" she moaned, but he merely looked at her, his stare so intense that her eyes widened. In lieu of an answer he took her legs, placing them over his shoulders while he positioned himself oh so close. As she felt the first soft tingle, she shivered, forgetting everything, clawing her hands into his hair, half caressing him, half begging for more, pushing him down when she wanted it harder. Shoving him up when it was almost too much to bear.

It felt too good, almost painfully so. A strange self confidence was building up inside of her as he went on, making her wiggle and buck, pushing herself off the bed and toward him when the rhythm became just too good, too good…

She moaned out loudly, unable to stifle it, unable to even think anymore until his light happy chuckle reached her and his face appeared beside her for a second before he came to lay right next to her, staring up, breathing in deeply.

Her face flushed with a happy smirk, she softly touched him where he was still so ready, and she tightened her grip, rolling on top of him, her eyes flickering as she told him not to stop, to fuck her, to come inside, because she needed to feel him, the shudder that went through his body when he came, the only thing that could make her forget the world for a bit as it centered right inside of her.

And when that moment came, so full of bliss and happiness, she truly did forget all their struggles, all the things past, all the things still lying ahead of them, and she just lived in that moment. With him.


	38. Where to go from here?

...

In the coming months word swiftly spread about the destruction of Aurora's major Eternal mining site, about the Silveren Captain's presumed death, and the whole continent was in turmoil as it was starting to rearrange its power structures.

While Raven, Kane, and Abby eventually stayed behind to deal with the bonds, trying to work on that cure they had promised, Bellamy, Clarke, Octavia and Lincoln set out to use Kane's method on the other mining sites as well. At the same time, they had to make more and more trips to wherever someone reported an Eternal wound, or sightings of an Eternal Weapon. A lot of people were beginning to get uprooted because of their efforts and followed them back, lost and without direction.

In a way it was fascinating to see these confused stragglers come to look up to Clarke and Bellamy for some form of guidance, as if they alone had the key to making a better future, and while they stepped up to the task, Bellamy a little more reluctantly than Clarke, it came with a price.

When one morning a handful of Eternals with their families surrounded Bellamy and looked up to him so hopeful as if he was the savior of them all, the role model they had always needed, he once again felt overwhelmed at the people's sudden trust and hope in him. Clarke had to smile at how uncomfortable he was about the added responsibility, but when she watched as he snapped at them, she gently tugged at him, pulling him to the side briefly, locking gazes.

 _Breathe,_ she told him. _They just need someone to be their leader, and it might as well be you and I. It won't be like this forever…_

 _I don't want to be their freaking leader._ He seemed equally exasperated and pouty like a small child, making her look at him with a half smile on her face.

Resting a hand on his chest, she shook her head.

 _This is not about what_ we _want, Bellamy. Not anymore. We don't want our bond gone, but we're here to help the others get rid of theirs. - We don't want to be the ones doing the guiding, but who else is going to? With your mom gone, someone_ has _to fill the power vacuum before worse people take advantage of it._

 _Clarke._ He sighed, looking at her wearily, but she could see that he understood, that he saw her point. And yet, he was still troubled by the memory of his own mother becoming corrupted by too much power until she had become an unrecognizable person. What if the same happened to him?

 _It won't,_ Clarke assured him.

 _You don't know that_ , he retorted. But she did, she was sure of it.

"You are not your mother, Bellamy," she said out loud, "You had all the chances in the world to turn into someone just as vile. As an Eternal you were in a position of power yourself. But you chose not to do bad with that. You chose to get Kane out, to keep him alive despite your orders and to do something good with him. To do _this_." She pointed at the people talking quietly among themselves, oblivious of their reluctant leaders' struggles.

He looked at her then, unconvinced but a little more accepting, and her smile grew. "If you do happen to go over the rails, you got me to rein you back in. Alright? Right here." She softly tapped his temple before lightly kissing his forehead, feeling at least some of his tension dissipate.

Riding off into the sunset together would simply have to wait a little while longer...

* * *

...

The city wasn't Octavia's favorite, so she was glad for all the errands she could run, all the trips that took her and Lincoln to other places, away from the people, the walls, and the stuffy feeling of being incarcerated.

But she also liked being close to her brother again and at least Arkadia was nothing like the town she had grown up in. There were trees here, and parks, and it was almost bearable.

Almost.

"O!"

She jerked her head in the direction the voice had come from, seeing her brother jog toward her. With a last tender stroke, she finished wiping down her horse, a task she had started after her latest run to get Kane more supplies, and she whispered a few words of thanks into the animals mane before turning around to face Bellamy.

"Hey," she said, smiling when she noticed how relaxed he seemed - no, not just seemed. Ever since the worst was over, ever since he had gotten her out and away from the tower, ever since they had left Aurora behind for one last time, he had been a changed man. As if a burden had left him and he was able to breathe again; and she understood the feeling all too well.

It surprised her, occasionally, how well she herself had dealt with Aurora's demise, with their last meeting. She had always anticipated killing her one day, making her pay in the worst of ways, not even so much for abandoning her children, but for what she had done to Bell, and to their people.

When he had pulled her away and with him, however, she hadn't fought. She probably could have, she was small yet very lithe and could have wiggled out of his grasp quickly. But all fight had left her, and despite her initial confusion and frustration about that, she now had an idea why.

Deep down, she had never wanted to go through with her dark plan. It had seemed like the one thing that kept her going, that fueled her every move. Everything she had done had always been so that she could pay Aurora back.

But that was not really her purpose in life, it couldn't be. She needed to find something better to live for, and she knew she had actually long found it.

"You doing out here, big brother? Thought you're too busy being the 'Captain son' these days." She chuckled softly at the way he looked at her with annoyance. He really didn't like the moniker people were using for him as if it was a title, or a job description.

Ignoring her little jab, he asked, "You got a minute?"

She smiled at him, nodding. "For you always. I'm done here anyways and Kane mentioned he could use a hand with the converter. Walk with me over to the house?"

Bellamy grinned. "You know you could just sit back and relax a bit too, right? Every so often?"

With a weary sounding sigh, she nodded. "Yeah, but what would be the fun in that? Besides, all this work doesn't do itself, and I can't in good conscience let only you and Clarke play the saviors here. Someone needs to make sure that we don't forget about the foresters, either—"

"And who better to do that than you and Lincoln," Bellamy finished for her, rolling his eyes, but smiling. "I know."

Going on their way, walking next to each other like they had done so often in the past, Octavia found that it almost felt like those times when Bell had had to guide her back after one of her little runaway stints to the forest or the lakes, or anywhere outside the city limits. She shot her brother a glance that he reciprocated with a small smirk.

"Feels familiar, doesn't it?" he asked, clearly sharing her memories and she realized it didn't necessarily take a mind bond to read someone else's thoughts. She and Bell shared a connection of their own, and knowing that comforted her.

Concentrating back on the rough road under her feet, she smiled to herself. It felt so good to be near him again.

"So, why are you here, Bell?"

"Just wanted to check whether you're doing alright. I haven't seen you around much since…" He swallowed, still having trouble talking about it. But she knew.

"Since we left her behind to die?"

"Yeah." He didn't look at her, or anywhere, his shoulders a little more tense then before, and she couldn't help but gently nudge him. Maybe she shouldn't have worded it so harshly. But it was the truth.

"I'm okay, you know?" she told him quietly. "If you are…"

He did look at her then, really taking her in, and she smiled an open smile at him, waiting for his reaction.

"I am," he muttered, "Today…" He paused, his gaze still fixed on hers, and eventually she nodded at him, understanding.

Today. Today they were all alright, and when tomorrow came, they would re-evaluate. It was as simple as that. And as complicated.

She swallowed and forced herself to not allow the tears that were threatening to flood her eyes to come just yet.

"We'll be alright, Bell. As long as we got each other," she whispered, and he smiled at her again, laying an arm around her shoulders and pulling her in.

"Yeah..."

Tomorrow would come and there was no knowing how they would feel then. But Octavia felt hopeful, as hopeful as she had never felt before. Bell had saved her soul that day in the tower, and Lincoln had been there to pick up the pieces to put her back together.

So, let tomorrow come. She was ready.

* * *

...

* * *

...

Kane's kitchen looked spotless yet again as he took it in, leaning against the sink. He absently grabbed a dish towel and rubbed his hands dry, then tossed it behind him, never taking his eyes off the guest that had sat with him while he had cleaned up.

Now the man carefully stood up, raising an eyebrow at him.

"You've really become quite the home maker, Marcus."

Kane made a face, grinning. "The things you do—"

"I don't know who you're playing and why," the man interrupted him, clearly unimpressed with Kane or anything he could potentially say. "But you're not fooling me. Like I said to you before, I know you took some metal before you set that site on fire and I know you'll continue to do so elsewhere. I'm just not sure your 'friends' know that, too, and what your agenda with them is."

"Nyko..." Kane sighed, suddenly weary and tired of his guest.

The man waved him off dismissively. "This used to be _our_ business, Marcus. Ours. _We_ had a shared agenda, remember? Use the metal to arm the Neutral Zone, the foresters, the impure, the deformed, all those neither the Golden nor Silveren care about. We've shipped a lot of metal West, but we're not there yet. Now you destroy what we need, but take some for yourself?"

Kane sniffed, then smiled. Slowly, he walked over to the table and let himself drop onto one of the chairs. "My friend, I'm not trying to work against our mission, I'm trying to continue it."

"Are you? Because I didn't see you send that metal out. All I see is that you surround yourself left and right with Silveren and Golden now."

"Don't you see what I'm doing? I'm taking away their advantages over us! They'll be our equals, or lesser. We'll soon be the only ones with access to such deadly weapons. All I need to do is try and get Abby Griffin to teach me the procedure so that we can have our own super soldiers."

Nyko frowned at him, his brows dark arches over his eyes. "I don't know, Marcus. Is that really what you are doing here? Because if not, if you're lying, I'll have to find my own way into one of the remaining Eternal sites and do it myself - before you destroy them all. We need this, Marcus."

"Trust me, my friend. One last time..."

Marcus smiled winningly, leaning over the table extending a hand. Nyko scrutinized him for a long silent moment, then he finally nodded, shook the proffered arm and got up. Kane forced himself to stay calm, but inwardly, he felt a huge weight shifting, and he took a deep breath. That had been too close...

...

He had barely touched the handle of the kitchen door to let Nyko out into the cold night, when Abby appeared right in front of him, her face flushed and angry, and Marcus pressed his lips together in frustration as he tried to usher a suspicious Nyko past her.

"Marcus." Her tone was a little too high, and he quickly lifted a finger.

"Just a minute, Abby. I'll be right with you," he addressed her, then shot Nyko a glance. "You'll find your way from here, I'm sure?"

The man nodded, then went on his way as Kane turned around to face the doctor. He tried grabbing her arm, gently guiding her to the kitchen, but she fought him off and he grimaced. This night was not going as smoothly as he had hoped.

"What the hell was that about, Marcus?" She was seething, and he ran a hand over his forehead, massaging it briefly. He was tired of all these confrontations. They were tedious and time consuming. And exhausting.

"How much did you hear?"

"Enough." Abby's mouth was a pale line in her face, her whole expression, her posture tense. His mouth suddenly felt dry and sticky. He needed a glass of water, but Abby didn't seem to be willing to let him go anywhere, even if it was just the sink. Fine. He slumped his shoulders, sighing.

"I'm not going to deny anything, if you were wondering. Our plan really is to arm the Neutral Zone, to gain an advantage over the rest of the continent—"

"Marcus. I thought we fought on the same side. _Against_ war!" Abby was glaring at him so angrily that it pained him. He really did like her, probably more than was good for him.

"That's true."

"No, it's not. You were using us. You _are_ using us. These kids, they want to believe you so desperately, but you... you don't earn their trust at all. You are arming people in the Neutral Zone? What for if not war? I..." She began stammering, very obviously distraught. The pain in her face made him wince in sympathy, but she didn't notice it. She also didn't know that she wasn't the only one who had started to think of the kids as her responsibility. They were his now, too... Stupid feelings. The thought made him close his eyes briefly before he could focus again.

"I don't even know what to do with you now," Abby continued, "Or with them. What do I tell them?"

"Nothing." Kane suddenly put his hands on her shoulders, and this time, she didn't shake him off. It was as if deep down she still knew he was on her side. It was his chance. "You do nothing. Listen, tomorrow Bellamy gets his last treatment. Finn already got his. It didn't work a hundred percent, but close enough. Abby, these kids are finally free to do whatever they want. Your daughter, Clarke, and Bellamy, they already have a ton of support behind them. Octavia and Lincoln, with their connection to the free people, they'll bring in more. Once we crack the bonds with Raven's help, we'll have all the support we need—"

Abby didn't let him finish. "You just told that man that you have been arming masses against us all. You said you want to learn the procedure from me!"

Marcus visibly deflated, rolling his eyes at himself. "I shouldn't have said that."

The beautiful doctor stared at him coldly. "Oh?" she questioned in a mocking tone.

He had to try and explain. Rubbing his forehead, his hair falling into his face, he looked openly at the woman in front of him.

"See, Nyko is a good man. But he is a warrior. The kind of man that needs a bone every once in a while. Contrary to what I told him I have no intention of learning your Eternal practices, but I do intend to make sure that no one has an advantage anymore. Abby..." He swallowed, really craving that stupid water. And her understanding. "I know you won't trust me, but you can. All I ever said was true. But I believe it takes more than destroying what those in power have to prevent another war. They'll still have all the weapons, while the rest don't have much. We - _I_ want to change that. But I want to change it with _you_."

"How can I believe anything you say? Marcus..." She sounded so jaded. It pained him. "You wouldn't need Eternal metal to arm anyone. Regular materials would work just as fine." She paused, her mind working. "I have played the double game, too, you know?"

Abby had crossed her arms, almost hugging herself. But there was something in her eyes now, an involuntary openness that gave him hope. She did have no reason to trust him, but it was Nyko who he was playing, not her.

"I know," he quietly said, dropping his gaze. "I have played that game all my life, Abby. It's hard to remember you have to come clean to someone eventually. But I am being honest with you. All I need is for Nyko to get off my back and finish the initial plan. See, it's not just him. There's a whole group of people who think like him. If I can appease them for now, they'll not come taking control of one of the remaining mining sites. Because, frankly, that would be a disaster."

Abby's eyes widened. "You should have probably started with that," she flatly told him and he nodded, making a face before breaking into a smile.

"Yeah. I guess. Why don't we sit down in there and talk about it," he suggested, pointing to the kitchen and much to his relief, she finally nodded.

"You better have some damn good arguments if you want me to believe you and not go to the others right away," Abby said, waiting for him to lead the way, but he was frozen on the spot, staring at her. "Kane." She frowned at him, when he suddenly leaned forward, cupping her face and kissing her.

...

Yes, it was going to be a long night.


	39. Now is where it begins

...

"No no no no, do not touch that!"

Raven had been sitting at her desk, looking through the lens of Kane's fancy microscope, when she saw John Murphy try to touch the small vial with clear liquid on the counter right next to her. She rushed over so quickly he startled, and swatted his hand away with a shake of her head.

"I said no touching, Murphy! How hard is that to understand?!"

He grinned at her cockily, casually leaning against the table, eyeing her as she took the vial and grumpily brought it over to the microscope, where she resumed working on her task.

"Come on, Reyes," he cajoled, "you said I'm here to be the guinea pig, so let me be the freaking guinea pig."

She shot him another glare, but did swivel around in her chair again to focus her attention on him.

She sighed loudly and shook her head, making her ponytail whip. "Unless you don't mind potentially dying a painful death, I'd suggest you learn to have a little more patience. I told you we're still working on this, and so far, it doesn't look great. Wanna take a look yourself?" She vacated her chair and waved him over, ignoring his frown.

"Easy, easy, I was just—"

Wagging a finger at him, she shook her head again, interrupting him quickly. "Sit. Look," she ordered and he did as he was told, rolling his eyes at her briefly before awkwardly peeking through the lense, trying to get it to focus properly.

"So… what am I looking at?"

"Nanobots. The ones with the filaments? Those that look like tiny spiders? I dubbed them the Golden bots. See them attack the smaller, smoother looking ones?"

"Let me guess, you dubbed those the Silveren bots…"

"So smart, Murphy." Raven rolled her eyes at his smug grin. "But ya, I did. And they're being eaten alive."

He shrugged as he glanced up at her again, a question in his features. "I take it that's not good?"

Raven looked like she was stuck in a time loop, having to deal with the same questions over and over again. Her frustration was palpable, but Murphy didn't care. He had been promised they would take care of the bonds, that he and Emori would be part of the first round of treatment, and in turn, they had started helping Clarke and her little posse to distribute Kane's concoction, and to get it across the continent so that Bellamy and Clarke could heal Eternal wounds and those who inflicted them all at the same time.

It was time for some form of pay back. And being allowed to live in Marcus Kane's palace didn't cut it anymore.

"No, idiot, that is not good. That is bad. It means the cure is no cure, because your bots would kill the others on contact."

"But the doc—"

Raven cut him off with a wave of her hand, glaring at him briefly from the side. "I know that it worked for the doc. But that's because her skin was in direct contact with Eternal metal over a prolonged period, constantly. We don't know how, but eventually the Silveren bots must have overriden the Golden ones, maybe - quite possibly - because of their sheer numbers. - See here." She picked out another slide and carefully placed it under the microscope. "This is a sample of Abby's blood. We're trying to extract a cure from there, but it's not going so well…"

John glanced at her and took a reluctant look. What he saw was even more confusing than the first slide. This one showed a jumble of the tiny robots, some of them with broken filaments, others with what seemed to be dentures in their outer shell.

"They look a little the worse for wear…"

"You could say that." Raven's shoulders slumped, her whole demeanor abruptly changing. "I'm sorry, John," she muttered, her voice much softer, sympathetic even, and he wasn't sure how he liked that. "I wish we had better results by now, I honestly do…"

She trailed off and he made a face.

"Easy for you to say," he shot, more venomous than he had intended, "your boyfriend just got his last treatment, didn't he? So you guys are all happy and healed, why would you even want to keep searching for a cure for us? It's not like your best buds Clarke and Bellamy want to get rid of their oh so special bond, so excuse me if I doubt your incentive to change anything about that is very strong."

When he saw Raven's features harden, her mouth turning into a very thin line, her eyes squinting at him, he knew he had said something wrong. But he couldn't help himself. He was upset. He and Emori were done with their bond, they wanted it to end, to go away, yesterday rather than tomorrow - and most certainly not at some indefinite point in the future. They wanted it gone before their relationship got destroyed completely, before affection turned into resentment, hatred, and he had felt that bitter development start already. It was time.

"Easy?!" Raven's voice was toneless, her whole body suddenly tense as she stepped closer to him once more.

He shrugged, backing away slightly. "Yeah, well. I mean—"

"Yes, Finn finished the procedure." She paused, her glare intensifying. "But it takes a lot more than Kane's treatment to be 'happy and healed.'"

Much to John's horror, her eyes suddenly started welling up and sure enough, the first tears rolled down her cheeks before he even got a chance to say anything else. Angrily, Raven wiped her cheeks, still glaring at him, and he took a deep breath, understanding dawning.

"He's not doing so great, Finn, is he?" he asked quietly, involuntary compassion showing in his face, and Raven looked at him surprised, nodding briefly. It was just a short movement, really, before she hung her head, trying to regain composure, but failing.

John swallowed, unsure of how to handle the situation, what to do or say.

 _Just give her a hug_. A compassionate Emori said in his mind, startling him.

 _What?!_

 _A hug._ She sounded like she thought he was being dense.

 _I'm not sure she would want that…_ he evaded, but she gave him another mental nudge, and he could basically feel the eye roll she was probably giving him where she was.

 _She's obviously upset, so do something, John._

He tried to object, feeling stuck between the worlds inside his mind and the one outside of him like so often, the running commentary in his head not helping with his instincts right now at all.

 _You like her. So go try and give her some comfort._

 _I don't… I…_ Eventually he gave up. She knew better anyway, better than even he himself did, like so often, and he stepped even closer to the girl in front of him, reluctantly extending his arms to embrace her.

Raven's eyes flickered briefly between confusion and anger, and he sighed, preparing himself for being rebuked. Yet he continued on anyways and was surprised when she actually allowed it, allowed him to wrap his arms around her and hold her.

Just hold her for a while.

* * *

…

Clarke was chuckling lightly, shooting Bellamy a glance when he suddenly leaned in a bit to kiss her, and she smiled, happy to see him lighthearted.

They were on their way to Kane's study for the last round of his treatment, and she was just as exhilarated as he was that it all would be over soon. Ever since they had started the procedure his level of pain had gradually lessened, and over the course of the last few weeks, they had gotten to this point where he was basically completely pain free, the last session mostly just perfunctory.

"Ready, princess?" he asked, the door handle already in hand, and she gave a nod, a bright smile on her face.

She was so ready for this to be over, ready for them to leave behind the horrors of the past. She was even ready to put her full focus on the task ahead of them: bringing the cure to more people, on both sides, while working on one for the bonds.

When they stepped into the brightly lit laboratory, Raven and John Murphy were already there, and Clarke briefly made a face at Bellamy.

 _Ugh. I feel bad for him. Can you believe it? I actually feel bad for Murphy,_ she admitted, rolling her eyes in disbelief. Bellamy squeezed her hand, knowing exactly what she meant. Their relationship with John and Emori had been troubled so far. The torture Bellamy had suffered at Murphy's hands, or the shot wound Clarke had sustained because of Emori were nothing they could easily forget.

And yet John Murphy had also been crucial in persuading Wells to let them go, had then looked for them once they had returned to Arkadia to volunteer as a test subject for their potential bond cure along with his partner Emori. He and Emori had put so much hope in Clarke's and Bellamy's endeavors that they had instantly been willing to help, no questions asked.

The cure for the bonds wasn't coming along as smoothly as the one for the Eternal wounds, however, and John was growing more and more impatient by the day. Abby and Kane and especially Raven kept pouring over a solution, yet could not seem to find anything that really worked without putting too much of a danger on their potential test subjects, and the weeks had grown long and tedious. It wasn't easy for anyone involved.

...

"Hey!" Raven said a little too brightly upon seeing them, jolting them both back to the here and now. "Kane's not here yet, Bell. But he should be any minute."

He exchanged a glance with Clarke, both of them aware of a certain tension in the room, and she tilted her head, looking at the other two.

"You guys alright?"

Murphy made a face, raising an eyebrow, then looking at Raven. Something unspoken passed between them, before he turned his attention to Clarke and Bellamy.

"Yup. You? Here for the finish line, Blake?"

It was clear that something had gone on, but that they were both unwilling to talk about it. Clarke shot Raven a glance, and when the girl tried a half hearted smile, she decided to let it go and keep any further questions to herself for now.

Right then, the door swung open and spared them having to deal with the awkwardness settling among them.

"Ah!" Kane's chipper voice reverberated through the large room, and they all turned to face him. "Ready for the last session?"

"Mom." Clarke grimaced as she watched her mother emerge from behind Marcus. Abby grinned a little sheepishly, taking a few steps away from where she had stood with her arm around the man. A light flush colored her cheeks, giving away what Clarke had suspected for a while now. Abby and Marcus were not just casual friends anymore. Whatever she thought of that, she knew it was doing her mom good, and for Abby's sake, she was willing to learn to accept it. After all, Kane had proven himself more than once now, even though they still didn't know much about his shady side business with Nyko. But for what it was worth, he had taken an almost fatherly liking to them all, treating them all like they were part of one big family.

And the strangest thing was that over time, the feeling was starting to become mutual.

"Sit down, Bellamy," Kane was just ordering, oblivious to Clarke's thought process as as well as to the awkward atmosphere he had interrupted, and Bellamy quickly did as he was told. It only took minutes from there. Kane got his bag out, getting ready to prod and poke him.

"One last time, my friend," he said with a smile, and got a nod and a grimace in return as Bellamy unraveled his bandage for what would be the last time.

Clarke was right beside him, staring at his arm in wonder, how the muscles worked when he flexed, the veins and sinews visible against his skin. And the scar… it had almost completely lost its strange shimmer and had taken on the slightly raised and reddish nature of a more normal "scar," one that Abby had been able to sew properly shut over the last few weeks, bit by bit, thus helping to eradicate the pain of an open wound.

This new scar, it was almost beautiful. A reminder of what it had once been, of pain and terror, yet with the obvious signs of healing. In the end, Clarke and Bellamy had made it, together, and the pain was over at last, gone, though never completely forgotten. But they could breathe, they could finally breathe and they could go forward from there.

...

"And, that was it," Kane triumphantly announced, startling Clarke and jolting her back to the present where she saw it was true. When her gaze wandered from Bellamy's face to his arm, she could really see that it was done. The last small piece of the scar red and a little bloody, but Abby was quick to rush over and put some gauze over it, getting ready to sew it shut like the rest, while Clarke leaned in more and kissed Bellamy, closing her eyes just like he did, the moment only theirs.

 _Now it's over._

 _No. Now is where it really begins._

As if to underscore their point, Abby stepped a little closer and whispered, "Now that that is out of the way, we really need to talk. Marcus informed me that we might have another problem coming our way..."

Clarke and Bellamy exchanged a wary glance, then turned to face Abby.

"What kind of problem?"

...

* * *

...

It had been an exceptionally exhausting day for all of them, emotionally, and physically, and when it was finally time to sleep, Clarke just fell onto their bed, clothes still on, shoes still firmly laced around her feet, but she couldn't be bothered. Her limbs were tired, her mind weary, her feelings raw.

Abby had told them more about Kane's side business with Nyko and the potential threat it entailed: angry people coming for them all, Neutral Zoners that were no longer neutral, but angry and highly armed.

All that while they were still desperately waiting for a breakthrough regarding the bond treatment. Amid their mission to clear the world of the Silveren Nanobots, they were working so hard to do the same with their Golden counterparts, and while Clarke was excited about that and happy for those who would hopefully soon be able to get out of an unwanted link-relationship, she was also wary. Anxious.

Because whatever they eventually came up with, it would be too late for Wells.

It would not be a cure for everyone, it couldn't be. And they hadn't even taken the problem of the tryouts into consideration there, either. No one really knew how important those actually were for the establishment of a bond. What if there were linked partners out there that had never taken part in a tryout? What if there were more strange half formed bonds like the one she and Bellamy shared?

Too many questions. With a long drawn out sigh, Clarke found herself dozing off where Bellamy lay next to her, holding her, already asleep, and she smiled at him, her face scrunching up with the ache of love when she curled up to him more, placing a soft kiss on his temple, forcing herself to shut her brain off.

"I love you, Bellamy Blake," she whispered, then she allowed sleep to finally spiral her downward into the warmth of dreams.

...

What felt like mere seconds later, she was woken up abruptly when a storm of images and emotions flooded over her with such force that she startled. She was disoriented, as if waking up inside of a dream, only slowly realizing her lucidity. Then she finally understood what was happening. Bellamy's barriers were completely down, and so were hers, both their minds melding into one for a few scary and intense moments, and Clarke caught a glimpse of what life might have been like had their bond been more like the ones she had learned about all those months ago in Preparation. All encompassing, raw, terrifying…

There was the man that had slaughtered her dad. Wells, smiling and winking at her. She felt Bellamy's love for her, so deep, so fierce, so... scary, strong and overwhelming. There was his mother, too close. Clarke felt so much terrible pain. Too much. Too much. Torture, the gunshot to her side. The sting where she had bitten herself while hiding under the porch.

She saw her grandparents, her dad. Their blood. Her friends. Her home.

Bellamy His smile, his pain… The 'thing' that cut into his arm. A blazing silvery sheen. There was the woman he hated so much, and why couldn't she have loved him. Why couldn't she have been there. Why… Why couldn't anyone ever just-

…

 _Bellamy. It's over. Come back. Come back to me. It's over…_

He woke up with a gasp, breathing too quickly, a panic in his face that quickly dissipated upon seeing her. She placed a hand against his cheek, smiling at him, banning the images, warding her mind.

"It's over," she repeated softly, staring into his dark eyes. "It's over..." And she held him as he finally allowed himself to cry in the safety of her embrace, the one place, the one person where he found peace, where all his pain left him. He silently cried in her arms until they both didn't have any tears left. Until they both fell back asleep from the emotional exhaustion to finally wake up to a new day; to a sense of calm, and hope.

Clarke lay with her head resting in the crook of his arm, smiling at him, mouthing an "I love you." For the first time in a very long while, she truly felt like they would be okay in the end, that the worst _was_ over. It had to be.

...

At least for now...

* * *

...

 **To be continued...**

...


End file.
